Ad Infinitum Part One: No Time Like the Present
by Kezhke
Summary: Miral Paris and her friend Andrew Kim are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future.
1. Chapter 1

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Ad Infinitum

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Viacom/Paramount/CBS, and I am just borrowing them for fun, not profit.

Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." PG-13.

When Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres prepare to send their first daughter to Starfleet Academy, they are unprepared for her coming of age. As she becomes involved with Harry Kim's son, life quickly spirals out of control for them and ultimately leads to a new journey for their younger daughter. Because this story deals with time travel, it may seem inconsistent with canon – but keep reading and it will make sense.

Pairings: P/T, K/f, J/C, Miral Paris/m, others.

Language Note: Klingon expressions were translated using several different sources. I have not provided the English translations here, as the meaning should be more or less evident from context.

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**Part One: No Time Like the Present**

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

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**Chapter 1: Earth, Northern Californian Wilderness, 2396**

"Mom, Andrew and I are going for a walk around the lake, okay?"

B'Elanna looked up from the vegetables she was chopping. "Okay, have fun." She smiled knowingly. "And take your sister."

"Mother," Miral said patiently, "first of all, she's not little, and she doesn't need to be looked after. Second, your attempts at keeping me from being alone with Andrew are feeble – and unnecessary. We're just friends. We've always been just friends."

"You're too smart for your own good."

Miral leaned down as if she was going to kiss her mother's cheek but instead stole a piece of carrot and plopped it into her mouth. "Whatever you say, Mother." She tucked her brown hair behind her ear. "Andrew! Let's go!"

The young man arrived in a flash, and the two bounded off together.

"What was that?" Harry asked, sliding into the seat next to B'Elanna. He stole a piece of carrot from the pile.

"If everyone keeps pilfering the food," she informed him, "there won't be any left for dinner." She waved the knife toward his hand as he tried again. "Harry, I think the day we've been dreading has finally arrived."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

Tom plopped down across the table from them and grabbed a piece of carrot. "What?" he asked, mouth full, as they both stared at him. "I'm hungry. When's dinner?"

"Whenever you step in and tell me to stop working on it," B'Elanna answered. "You know cooking isn't my forte."

Tom grinned. "You're not making a soufflé, B'Elanna. You're chopping vegetables to throw in a pot of hot water. What could possibly go wrong?"

"You could end up in the pot with them."

"All right, give me the knife." She passed it to him blade-first with a challenging expression on her face. He ignored the look and carefully took the knife from her hands to resume the chopping.

"Did you know about Miral and Andrew?" Harry asked his friend.

Tom nearly sliced a finger off, but he quickly recovered. "I caught her sending him a message at 0300."

"When was that?" Harry asked him.

"About two months ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say?"

Harry frowned. "What are we going to do about this?"

"We're not going to do anything," B'Elanna said, leaning her elbows on the table. "It's none of our business. Besides, the more we try to keep them apart, the more interested they'll be in each other."

"Come on, Harry," Tom added. "Your son could do a lot worse than my daughter."

* * *

"I don't even know if I want to be in Starfleet," Miral admitted, dangling her bare feet in the water.

"You'd better decide soon," Andrew said, sitting down next to her. He pulled his own shoes off. "We're supposed to report to the Academy in two weeks."

Miral sighed. "Andrew, don't you ever get tired of hearing about all the amazing things your dad's done? The legendary Ensign Kim of Voyager?"

"I guess sometimes," Andrew admitted, "but usually it just makes me want to be like him."

"Okay, but it's not just my dad. It's my mom and Grandpa and 'Weren't you the baby born in the Delta Quadrant?' Sometimes I wonder if I really want to go to the Academy or if it's just the only life I know."

"You said you wanted to study xenobiology."

"I can do that anywhere."

"What about traveling and exploring?"

Miral rolled her eyes. "It's not hard to get on a passenger ship and go somewhere if you want to."

"Well, what about me? I'm going to the Academy, and I wanted to start classes with you." He looked at her plaintively.

Miral studied his face for a moment. She'd been looking at that face as long as she could remember. It was one of her earliest memories. Recently, though she didn't know how or why, looking at Andrew had changed for her. His face had begun to make her heart beat faster and make her own face redden. She suspected her mother knew, though she never said anything out right, and she was embarrassed that her father had caught her talking to Andrew in the middle of the night. The fact that they were talking late at night was ordinary enough; they'd been best friends since birth. It was the fact that she was _sneaking_ a message to him, Miral knew, that raised Tom's suspicions. At any rate, Miral knew how things worked between her parents. If one of them knew, the other did, and if both of them knew, she could probably bet that Harry and Libby would find out soon enough. And, of course, L'Naan knew; she and Miral had never been able to keep secrets from each other for very long, and L'Naan was too good at sensing those kinds of things. Everyone in the Torres-Paris-Kim world, it seemed, knew she was infatuated with Andrew. Miral just couldn't tell if Andrew himself knew – or if he felt the same.

"Hey!"

Miral's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her younger sister. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Lately L'Naan was clingier than usual. Perhaps it was because she knew Miral would soon be going to the Academy, or perhaps it was because she sensed someone else was capturing Miral's attention. But their mother had been on a kick lately about them getting along, and Miral had promised to be nice.

"Hi," she said flatly.

"Hey, L'Naan," Andrew said a little more politely.

"What are you guys talking about?" L'Naan asked. She sat down next to Miral and promptly kicked off her shoes.

"None of your business."

"The Academy," Andrew said with a sharp look toward Miral. An only child, he never quite understood how she could be so cruel to her sister sometimes.

"Do you think you'll take any of Commander Icheb's classes?" L'Naan asked, splashing her feet in the water. "Wouldn't that be funny?"

"Miral will definitely end up in his Borg biotechnology seminar if she studies xenobiology," Andrew said. "It's a shame they retired the Kobayashi Maru. I always wanted to see if I could beat it like Kirk did."

Miral sighed. "Can we please talk about something other than the Academy? I am sick of hearing about Starfleet."

"What's wrong with Starfleet?" Tom's voice called from behind them. He took a seat to the left of his younger daughter and affectionately rubbed her knee. "Are you rethinking the Academy, munchkin?" he asked Miral.

"Dad!" she protested. "I'm eighteen! Can you please stop calling me 'munchkin'?"

"Okay, Miss Paris. The Academy?"

"Um, it's nothing." Andrew nudged her. She shoved him back before leaning around L'Naan to talk to their father. "I'm not sure if I really want to go anymore."

"Okay," Tom said slowly, "what do you want to do instead?"

"I still want to study xenobiology, but, Dad, you're not going to force me to go to the Academy, are you?"

"Have your mother and I ever forced you to do anything?"

"All the time!"

"When?"

"When you made us do the Rite of Ascension and eat asparagus –"

L'Naan interrupted, "When you made us take _bat'leth_ lessons when I wanted to take ballet. Remember, Dad?"

Tom smiled. It was all in the name of heritage and health. Things that counted – like being allowed to choose their own career paths – were things he and B'Elanna left alone. When the girls were older, he supposed, they'd understand. "Well, how did those times work out?"

"Um, my Rite of Ascension guide ended up in the hospital," Miral recalled. She couldn't help laughing.

"I always vomited the asparagus up," L'Naan added. "And I still got to take ballet."

Tom kissed her temple. "You were much better at ballet than the _bat'leth_."

"Actually, Dad," Miral said, "you're the only one of us who's any good at that Klingon stuff."

"True." Tom realized they were neglecting the fourth in their party. "Andrew, what about you? Rethinking Starfleet?"

"No way!" Andrew replied. "I just want to fly a starship."

"He's going to break all your flying records," L'Naan teased.

"Dad, did you come over here for a reason?" Miral asked.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Dinner's ready. Let's go."

* * *

"So, what's the story?" B'Elanna murmured as Tom rejoined her, Harry, and Libby at their table. They watched their three teenagers sit down together at a separate table, arguing as usual.

"She's rethinking Starfleet, she's completely enamored and won't admit it, and I don't think Andrew knows she's alive."

"Don't look so relieved, Harry," B'Elanna warned, watching Harry's face brighten.

Libby laughed. "You don't honestly think he'd be upset at the idea of Miral and Andrew, do you?"

B'Elanna did not answer but eyed Libby warily. They'd known each other for a long time, but maternal protectiveness could easily bring down their friendship. B'Elanna was only ever a heartbeat away from attack if she felt a threat to either daughter.

"Easy there," Tom told her softly, as he grinned at Harry. "You didn't tell me Andrew wants to fly."

"A new development," Harry told him. "After he found out that tactical involves daily hand-to-hand training in the first semester."

"Are you sure he's your son, Harry?" B'Elanna teased.

Harry shook his head. "He won't be on the Parrises' squares team, that's for sure. That part of him is all Libby."

"If that's intended as an insult," his wife interrupted, "it won't work. I love that Andrew isn't rough and violent."

"Anyway," Harry continued to Tom, "will you take him out for a lesson?"

"I've taken him flying before," Tom reminded him.

"Yeah, but not since he wanted to become a pilot. Please?"

"Sure, Har. We can go after dinner."

"Not after sunset," Libby declared. "Not in the dark."

"Shuttles have sensors, Lib," Tom teased her. "Pretty dark in space, you know." He winked at her.

"Fine," she relented, unable to suppress a smile. "But don't leave the atmosphere."

* * *

"Okay, now make sure the inertial dampers are online," Tom encouraged. He monitored Andrew's progress from his console. "Good, now set your course…And initiate launch sequence." The small craft lifted off the surface and neatly moved over the Californian wilderness and then the Pacific Ocean. "Hey, good job, buddy."

"Commander Paris, can I ask you something?"

"'Commander'? Since when do you call me by rank?"

"I just figured that since I'm going to the Academy, I should start."

"Do me a favor. If we're ever on the bridge of a starship together, you can call me Commander. Otherwise, let's just stick with Tom."

"Okay, Tom," Andrew continued, "can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Verify course heading."

Andrew's tan fingers glossed the helm controls. His dark eyes were serious, not unlike Harry's. Then he looked out the viewport more contemplatively. "Uh, Tom, I – I just wanted to know if – what you would think about – "

Tom watched silently as Andrew fumbled. He sensed what was coming with dread. He had miscalculated before, assuming Andrew's reticence to be disinterest. He now realized that, like his parents, Andrew was an observer who took in the world around him before acting – the opposite of Miral with her impetuous nature. More, Tom realized, Andrew's observations had been focused on Miral.

"So," Andrew finished, clearing his throat, "do I have your permission?"

"Drew, I don't think it's _my_ permission you need."

* * *

With Tom and Andrew gone, and a roaring fire keeping the campsite lit as the sun set in the distance, Harry decided the time was ripe for a scary story. It had been his tradition during their camping trips for years. Unfortunately, the kids had gotten too old and too jaded for such a tradition, and it took more than a little coaxing to convince Miral and L'Naan to sit with him and listen.

Libby and B'Elanna remained at the table where they'd eaten dinner with fresh cups of coffee, watching.

"It's official," Libby declared. "My son has a case of hero-worship for Tom, and Harry has turned into one of those old men who thinks he's a lot funnier than he really is. I mean, look at him. He's worse than Reg Barclay."

B'Elanna nearly snorted. "And Tom isn't?"

"Speaking of old men," Libby said seriously, "how's your father?"

"He's okay. He's getting treatment for the blood disease, and he just had corrective surgery on his eyes." She twirled her coffee mug on the table. "But he's old, and there's only so much medicine can do. Sometimes I wonder who'll last longer – him or the admiral."

"Admiral Paris? That man will outlive all of us."

"So what do you really think about Miral and Andrew?"

Libby shook her head. "You first."

"I think they're well-suited to each other," B'Elanna said slowly, gazing at her daughter across the campsite, "but I think they both have a lot of growing up to do."

"Agreed."

"But I don't think we can tell them that," she added.

"No," Libby confirmed. "They're smart kids. They'll figure it out." She followed B'Elanna's gaze to the fire, and her eyes fixed on Harry. "It's Tom and Harry we should be worried about. I think they both still think of them as children."

B'Elanna nodded. "Something about having teenage daughters has regressed Tom into a Neanderthal."

"Oh, Harry's just as bad," Libby assured her. "Gender equality must have come further than we realized. He's as protective of Andrew as Tom is of Miral."

"And if they start dating…" B'Elanna mused.

"It isn't going to be pretty," Libby answered with a wry smile.

* * *

"Thanks, Tom," Andrew said appreciatively as they exited the shuttle.

Tom slapped him on the back as they made their way back to camp. "I think you'll make one hell of a pilot, kid."

They were greeted by Libby, now wearing a shawl to fend off the chill of the night air. "That was some fancy flying. Who was responsible?"

"All Drew," Tom said generously.

"Not bad," she told her son. "Thanks, Tom."

"Any time."

"Your father and I are getting ready to head home. Are you coming with us?"

"I'll be home later," he said.

Libby raised an eyebrow. "Don't be too late."

"I won't," Andrew pledged.

They had come upon the rest of the group, now gathered around the fire. Harry was telling another story to B'Elanna and the girls. From his animated gestures, it looked as though he was trying to scare them, but from their deadpan expressions, they didn't seem convinced.

Tom took a seat next to B'Elanna and put his hand on her knee. As she turned to him, a smile curving her lips, L'Naan cried, "Har-ry! That's the dumbest story I've ever heard!"

Harry shrugged. "I tried."

Libby leaned down and kissed his cheek before murmuring, "It's time to go home."

Harry nodded and stood. "Ladies, it's always a pleasure entertaining you."

Miral sprang to her feet and kissed his cheek affectionately. L'Naan followed suit. Then each received a tender kiss on the forehead from Libby.

Tom stood up and quickly hugged his old friend. "See you around, buddy."

"Good night," B'Elanna said to Libby with a hug. She hugged Harry as well. "Bye, Starfleet." Now that she wasn't in Starfleet anymore, B'Elanna enjoyed teasing her friend with his old nickname. But he hadn't yet seemed to come up with a good one in return.

"Bye, Klingon liaison," he tried. They both shook their heads; it wasn't a good moniker.

Tom and B'Elanna rejoined their daughters, who were melting marshmallows on spears at the fire. Tom took B'Elanna's hand in his own, nuzzling her cheek with his face. "I can't believe how old they are," he whispered. "My little girls."

"I can't believe how old _we_ are," she replied, leaning her head further into his.

Miral nudged L'Naan and pointed to them. "Looks like that honeymoon photo."

L'Naan smiled. "I don't think Lenaris's parents are really in love," she said. "They don't even sit together when they have dinner. I guess we're lucky."

"Yeah," Miral said softly as she watched their parents kiss. Like L'Naan, she had several friends whose parents didn't seem to care very much for each other. Only a few years ago, she'd complained to her mother that her displays of affection were inappropriate and disgusting. She'd never considered how fortunate she and L'Naan might have been to grow up in such a warm, affectionate household.

"You know," L'Naan continued pointedly, "Starfleet brought them together."

Miral leaned her elbows on her knees and studied her sister for a moment. "When did you get so smart, little sister?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

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**Chapter 2: Earth, San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence, 2396**

"Miral! Time to go!" B'Elanna called, leaning on the wall for support. _Kahless_, she groaned inwardly. _What a mixed bag of emotions._ She wondered if her own mother had felt similarly when she left for the Academy. _Where the hell is Tom?_

"Mom, are you okay?" L'Naan asked, peering at her mother's pallid face.

"I'm fine," B'Elanna lied dismissively.

"Right, Mom," L'Naan said, flopping down on the sofa. "She's going to be fine, you know. The Academy's only ten minutes away from here. Besides, Dad's there, Harry's there, the admiral, and Icheb…Miral's not exactly braving the unknown."

"I know," B'Elanna replied, hands on hips. She continued staring down the corridor toward the bedrooms. "Miral Paris! Final warning!"

Miral emerged at last in green pants, a black and white striped shirt with elbow-length sleeves, and a green vest. She had a duffel bag over one shoulder. Her light brown hair curled gently to her shoulders, and her forehead ridges made slight shadows across her golden face. B'Elanna stared, trying to commit the image to memory. She knew the next time Miral was home, the girl standing in front of her would be replaced by a uniform-wearing, protocol-following young woman.

"Mother, are you crying?" Miral asked.

"No."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Torres never cries," Tom told Miral as he entered the living room. He gently wiped a tear from under B'Elanna's eye with one long finger as he smiled lovingly at her. "Are you two ready?" They nodded. "Hey, L'Naan, will you take a holoimage?"

"Dad, come on," Miral protested.

She was silenced by a look from her father. He put his arm around her, and B'Elanna did the same on the other side as L'Naan took the holoimage. Then Tom took his daughter's duffel bag for her, and they headed out.

At the transport center, B'Elanna slipped a box about a half-meter cubed into Miral's bag. When her daughter looked at her quizzically, she explained, "Just open it later."

"Is it a stuffed targ?" Miral rolled her eyes. "Mother, I'm eighteen."

"Mine brought me good luck until I was twice your age," B'Elanna said defensively. "Just trust me."

"And just what exactly happened to yours?"

"Well," B'Elanna explained, "it got destroyed when the Borg destroyed the Delta Flyer, but –"

"And then you were assimilated, right?" Miral raised an eyebrow at her.

"Okay," she said, eyeing Tom for support, "yes, I was assimilated, but in fairness that was our plan all along. If you manage to get half as far across the galaxy with your Toby as I did with mine, you'll thank me. Just wait."

Miral smiled. "Okay, you win. I'll keep it with me."

"Munchkin, don't be afraid to ask Admiral Janeway for help," Tom advised, sneaking a padd into her duffel bag. "And Harry. And behave." He crushed her in a tight embrace.

"Dad, it's not as if I'm going off to another planet. We'll probably see each other every day. I might even be on your flight team."

"Do you think you're good enough?" Tom teased. He looked at her seriously. "I'm glad you changed your mind about going. You're going to be a great officer."

Tom emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on the orange apron tied around his waist, and found B'Elanna sitting on the sofa with a large padd on her lap. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at some old images," she replied absently.

Tom sat down next to her, put an arm around her automatically, and pulled her against his side. He took the padd with his free hand. "Miral's naming ceremony?" He laughed. "Do you remember what a rotten day that was?"

_  
**Mariana Island Two, 2378**_

"_We picked a great day for this," B'Elanna grumbled as she tried to shield Miral's infant head from the torrential downpour._

"_It would be logical to relocate the ceremony indoors," Tuvok suggested._

"_There's not enough room for everybody, and, damn it, the whole crew needs this," Captain Janeway insisted. "Replicate umbrellas. We're doing this."_

_Tom shook his head with a slight smile. "Yes, ma'am."_

_Harry arrived on scene with a small cap for Miral, which he gently wiggled onto her head. He leaned close to her face, now shielded from the rain by the blue hat. "There. Now the rain isn't so bad, is it?"_

_B'Elanna craned her neck to see Miral's reaction. "I think she likes you, Harry."_

_Harry looked up at B'Elanna, a wide grin across his face. He was in love; he knew it. His only hope was that his friends' daughter would love him back. He let Miral's tiny fingers curl around one of his own and righted himself. "I think everyone's ready."_

"_This is stupid," B'Elanna told him and Tom. "I don't know why we're doing this."_

"_It's good for morale," Chakotay said. "Besides, isn't it important to preserve tradition?"_

"_Chakotay, it's cold and windy, and we're standing in the middle of a field getting rained on."_

_Tom put a hand on her shoulder. "Sounds pretty Klingon to me." He and Chakotay exchanged smiles as B'Elanna's scowl deepened._

_Just then a huge clap of thunder and bolt of lightning interrupted them. Janeway tried not to jump at the noise. Tuvok raised an eyebrow. Miral launched into an ear-piercing wail. Harry rubbed her back and winced at the sound of her screams. A gust of wind sent most of the gear they'd laid out flying, and several crew members raced across the field to catch it before it blew away. Tom sighed and tried to avoid B'Elanna's 'I told you so' stare._

"Miral didn't stop screaming for hours," B'Elanna recalled, laughing.

"At least L'Naan's ceremony was more orthodox," Tom reminded her. "Until that holographic Klingon touched my father."

B'Elanna laughed loudly as the image came back to her mind. "You really should have warned him that a tap with a _d'k tahg_ knife is a congratulatory sign."

Tom grinned. "More fun to watch him try to incapacitate a hologram. It's nice to know that admiralty didn't affect his combat skills." He scrolled to the next image. It was Harry smiling wildly as he held baby Miral. "She really loved him when she was a baby, didn't she?"

"He really loved her, too," B'Elanna said.

Tom flipped to the next image. It was one of Miral learning to walk while B'Elanna sat on the floor with her legs splayed, her hair in a total mess, holding onto her daughter's waist. She had one hand raised toward the imager in the universal "don't take my picture" gesture that Tom had ignored.

"Weren't you making dinner?" she asked him suddenly.

"It's nearly ready. Do you want to come sit at the table while I finish? That is, if you're done being sentimental about your daughter's departure?" His blue eyes sparkled in mirth.

B'Elanna's brown ones narrowed. "I am _not_ being sentimental."

"Yes, you are, but I like it." He rose and extended a hand. "Come on." He helped her to her feet and kept hold of her hand as he led her into the kitchen.

"Where's L'Naan? Is she eating with us?"

"She's at Lenaris's. It's just us."

B'Elanna smiled into his face, the blue eyes that still pierced her soul, even after nearly twenty years of marriage. His smooth skin had grown a little looser, and the small creases around his mouth that accentuated his smirk had grown deeper. And, of course, the hairline about which he was so sensitive had risen dramatically over the years, but his essence hadn't changed. He was still, to her, the same man who had once tried to woo her in the backseat of an ancient ground vehicle with rock-and-roll playing on the radio.

"You're still beautiful," he said, as if echoing her thoughts.

"Still? You mean, even though I'm old now?"

Tom merely smiled. He remembered a time when he would have taken the bait and tried to convince her that she had mistaken his words. He would have watched her grow hostile, and they would have sparred bit. The more he apologized, the more hostile she would become; sometimes he would grow angry and frustrated too, to think that she misunderstood him. It all made for great foreplay, but he was too old for such antics. He liked to think that he knew how to manage – even appreciate – her volatility better now than when they had first gotten married. "Exactly," he said, taunting her with raised eyebrows.

Her eyes narrowed again, and she threw her napkin at him. "Well, what are we eating?"

* * *

**Brazil, University of Sao Paulo, Office of Professor Chakotay**

Chakotay didn't want to throw the young student sitting in front of him out of his office, but the persistent beeping of his computer console was making him antsy. He suspected it was Kathryn calling, and frankly he'd rather be talking to her than listening to Laura McKinley's flimsy excuses for why her report on the Aztec culture was late.

"All right," he said when she finally paused for a breath. He'd already learned more about her personal life in the last ten minutes than he ever wanted to. "Get the report into me by Friday, okay?"

"Thank you, Professor," she said with visible relief. She scrambled out of his office, as if loitering might cause him to change his mind.

With a slight smirk, Chakotay tapped the still-beeping monitor to see the unexpected face of Commander Icheb staring back at him.

"Icheb, this is a surprise."

"Hello, Professor," came the response. Twenty years of post-Borg, post-adolescent socializing with humanoids had greatly improved Icheb's monotone, though he still didn't look or sound fully expressive. Chakotay took it on faith that it was a friendly greeting. "Admiral Janeway just got called into a meeting, so she asked me to contact you."

"Oh, what about?"

"The new crop of cadets that began today. We just returned from orientation." Icheb half-smirked. "Since we don't begin the semester in the middle of the summer like you."

"The last week in August is hardly the middle of the summer," Chakotay retorted with delight. One thing that had greatly improved over the years was Icheb's sense of humor. "When I'm starting vacation in May and you're still grading exams, we'll see who has the last laugh."

"At any rate, we thought you'd be interested to know that one Cadet Paris has enrolled in my Introduction to the Borg lecture."

"Miral? She's going to be in your class?"

Icheb nodded. "And Cadet Kim has already requested consideration for the flight team."

Chakotay whistled slightly. "He wants to work with Tom? Voluntarily?"

Icheb nearly laughed. "I'm equally surprised."

"And Kathryn told you to com me with this gossip?"

When Voyager had first returned to the Alpha Quadrant, Chakotay and Seven of Nine – Annika, she preferred so as not to provoke ire from families of those who had been assimilated – had lived together for a brief time on a remote colony. At the time, Chakotay found her fascinating and beautiful and vulnerable – the way discovering her human emotions chinked her Borg armor, he thought, was positively endearing. But it soon became clear they wanted different things out of life, and Annika had returned to Earth, leaving him devastated. He had essentially lost touch with the entire Voyager family, except B'Elanna (and, by default, Tom). His relationship with Kathryn was sorely strained, at first by what she'd sensed as a kind of betrayal on his and Annika's behalf and later by the uncomfortable position she was in of having to choose sides. Icheb, who had always been Seven's protégée, and Chakotay had ceased communication.

Seven's death a few years later had caused them all grief, but in some ways it had reunited them. Kathryn and Chakotay had made amends and slowly found their way back to the synergy they'd had on Voyager – now, of course, with Kathryn willing to openly declare her affections. Slowly Icheb had come to rely upon Chakotay as a friend and mentor.

And now they were both teaching. They weren't really rivals, but it was still fun to tease each other a little. With Icheb and Kathryn working in such close quarters – and now with the next generation of Paris and Kim at the Academy as well – it was, as Kathryn liked to say, "all in the family."

"Actually," Icheb told him, "Admiral Janeway told me to remind you to be home by 1900 or else she'd cook dinner herself."

"We can't have that," Chakotay said gravely. "Hey, Icheb, do you want to eat with us?"

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Dormitory Room of Cadet Miral Paris**

"I don't like my roommate," Andrew declared, striding into the room and plopping down on the nearest bed.

Miral only slightly glanced up from the padd she was reading. "Already? You've only had twenty minutes with him."

"He's messy," Andrew groused. "There's already a pile of clothing in the middle of the floor." He realized she was not paying attention to him and tried to look over her shoulder at the padd, but she pulled it away abruptly. "What's that?"

"A letter from my dad," she told him. "Will you go away? I want to read this in private."

"Miral, are you crying?" Andrew peered at her face. "I think you're crying."

"I am not."

"Yes, you are! Wow. I didn't think you cried."

"Everyone cries, Andrew," she snapped. She was still holding the padd against her chest so he couldn't see it. "Are you going to go away or not?"

"Nope," he said, lying down on the bed. "I hope this isn't your roommate's bed because I intend to get comfortable." He kicked off his boots and let them drop to the floor. As she stretched out on the bed, he felt a slight lump under a blanket and pulled it out. It was a stuffed Toby the Targ. "I didn't know you slept with a stuffed animal."

She yanked it from him and clutched it to her chest. "I didn't until now."

"This is a whole new side of you."

Miral let out an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, you're more annoying than L'Naan!" She went back to reading.

From the bed, Andrew smiled at her outburst. He meant what he'd said: in the eighteen years he'd known her, he was fairly certain he'd only ever seen her cry as a direct result of acute pain, and even that was pretty infrequent – she was tough. He had every intention of witnessing the event to its completion. Besides that, he was curious to know what Tom Paris could have said that was so heartfelt. And he felt a little letdown that his own parents hadn't given him a tear-inducing letter.

"What does it say?" he asked after a few minutes, his voice softer.

Miral came over to the bed and lay down next to him. She held the padd between them so they could read together. "Log entries he's made to me since I was born. I read the first five years already, and now he's writing about me starting school."

_  
Personal Log, Lieutenant Tom Paris, Stardate 61289.4_

_Well, munchkin, you start school today. You've been attending school your entire life, but today is the first day that you'll have homework and get graded on your performance. When you were born, your mother and I were responsible for teaching you about the universe around you. Now someone else is. You've always been so curious, always asking questions and trying to find answers to problems. An engineer, like your mother. I think you're going to be the best student in the class. I really want you to be a pilot, but I bet you end up following in your mother's footsteps._

Andrew looked at Miral, who shrugged. "Guess my dad's not quite as omniscient as I thought."

"You an engineer? Wow. That's like my dad predicting I'd be a Parrises' square champion like him."

Miral made a face at him. "You know, Drew, most people would be embarrassed that they can't win Parrises' squares even once. You talk about it like you're proud."

"It's a despicably violent game that civilized people shouldn't be playing," he said lightly. "Present company included. Let's read another entry."

Miral skimmed through the padd to look for another entry that might be interesting.

_  
Personal Log, Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris, Stardate 67982.2_

_We're leaving the Enterprise. Your mom and I have talked about it for a long time, and we've decided that moving to Earth will be good for all of us. The truth is, there's a job I really want there. We came aboard the Enterprise for your mom's career, and now it's my turn. You and L'Naan will have safe, comfortable lives on Earth, and your mom is going to work as the assistant liaison to the Klingon Empire. You'll probably get to visit Qo'Nos a lot. It'll be good for all of us._

_Well, that's true, but I still feel incredibly selfish. You're not old enough to understand this, but maybe one day when you read this, you will be. On the Enterprise, I'm just the guy who occasionally flies the ship. I wait for orders to engage the warp drive. I make course corrections that someone else determines and gives me. Mostly, though, I'm the chief engineer's husband. I haven't really felt important since we left the starbase, and even then, I was just part of a team. A really good team, that was doing something I loved, sure, but I haven't felt really important, on my own, since Voyager. _

_Wait, that's not entirely true either. I have felt important on my own. I've been your dad. I was glad my duties on the Enterprise didn't interfere with taking care of you and L'Naan. My dad was too busy with his career to do the kinds of things we do together, and I didn't want to repeat that with you. That's why I feel selfish about moving to San Francisco. I'm worried that someday you'll look back and think I moved you from the only home you'd known just so I could abandon you for Starfleet._

"Did you feel abandoned when you left the Enterprise?"

"No way," Miral said confidently. "It was great. Dad was home all the time, and you and I could hang out, and I got to see Grandpa and Chakotay all the time. I'm glad we moved here." She tapped the padd. "I feel like I need to reassure my dad, though. I hope he still doesn't think that."

"Did you read the most recent one?"

Miral skimmed again to the end of the data. "Here. He made this last night."

_  
Personal Log, Commander Tom Paris, Stardate 74279.09_

_You're leaving for the Academy tomorrow. I know it's crazy to feel this way, since you're only going to be living a few buildings away from where I work, but I'm scared and nervous and excited and sad. You're ready for it. I know you are. You've turned out to be bright and confident and smart and sophisticated, and I know you're ready to take on the world. But you're also still my munchkin. I still remember the first time I held you. You were so fresh and new. You looked exactly like your mother, but part of me couldn't believe you had really come from us. I still remember your first word. I thought it was Klingon, but your mom told me it was just a baby noise. I remember the first time you ate pizza, and your whole face lit up. You were my daughter, all right. And now you're going off to start a new life. I know you feel grown up and feel like you know yourself, but you're not fully formed yet. The Academy will change you. You'll come home a different person. So in some ways this is like saying good-bye to my munchkin because I know the next time I see you, you'll be someone else. You'll be Cadet Paris. This recording isn't going well at all. This isn't what I wanted to say –_

Miral tapped the screen off in the middle of reading. Andrew sat beside her, silently, letting her take in her father's words. Finally, she turned to him. "I really thought he was just going to tell me stories about the trouble he got into as a cadet."

Andrew smiled. "We've heard all of those before. Maybe he thought he would try to tell you some of the things he never has."

* * *

**Kim Family Residence**

"Well, it's just us now," Libby said, walking aimlessly around their living room. She rubbed her arms. Their house felt bigger somehow, draftier, emptier.

"It's not as though Andrew is a loud child," Harry remarked, "but it's really quiet in here, isn't it?"

Libby nodded. She put her hands on her hips and looked at him. "Now what?"

Harry shrugged and patted the sofa beside him. "I don't know. We just keep doing what we've been doing."

"Did you think this day would ever come?"

"Nope."

"Do you feel old?"

"Yup."

Libby frowned and sat down. She pulled Harry's arm around her and leaned into him. "When we had Andrew, I never imagined that he would actually grow up."

"Hey, Lib," Harry said, "remember the day we brought him home?"

Libby grinned, picturing it all in her mind. The day they got married, trying to have a child, the day they found out they were expecting a son. The day they brought Andrew home from the hospital and started a new life. Sharing firsts with Tom and B'Elanna as they raised Miral at the same time. Lording it over them when Andrew was able to walk first. Chalking it up to Klingon DNA when Miral was able to eat solid food first. Celebrating the kids' first birthdays at the same time.

"I miss him already."

"We were terrible parents," Harry said. "Really terrible. I thought baby-sitting Naomi Wildman had taught me enough about children."

"I wasn't exactly new to children either," Libby pointed out. "But those first few weeks were really challenging, weren't they?"

"Weeks? Try years."

"Oh, come on, Andrew is a dream child," Libby said. "Think about the Powells. Or Miral and L'Naan. You know I love them, but sometimes I am really thankful Andrew's nothing like them."

Harry laughed. "Don't tell B'Elanna that."

"No way. She'd take a dagger to my throat." She leaned contentedly against his frame and sighed. "Remember when you brought him to work when he was crawling?"

Harry smiled. "And he crawled away from everyone in the department and right into a maintenance conduit? We looked for him for an hour before it occurred to us to use the internal sensors to search for his lifesigns. Starfleet's best and brightest, and we couldn't even figure out how to find a missing baby."

"I could have turned you into mashed potatoes when you told me about it," Libby said. "The thought of my brand-new baby running free around a maintenance conduit."

"Hey, he was fine," Harry said. "Maybe it was because I brought him there all the time that he wants to be an officer."

"He's so like you – so disciplined and bright and obedient. He's going to make a great officer." Her voice was neutral; this was not mother's pride speaking but simple truth. Harry nodded in agreement.

"I just hope he can help Miral stay in check."


	3. Chapter 3

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 3: Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Dormitory Room of Cadet Miral Paris, 2396**

"I'm never going to get this!" Miral screamed in frustration, hurling a data padd across the room.

Ever patient, Andrew crossed the room and retrieved the padd. "You _will_ get it." He sat down on the bed beside her. "The warp core signature varies based on the resonance of the –"

"Andrew, just stop. This is absurd. My mother was one of Starfleet's most celebrated engineers and designers, and I don't even understand how a dilithium chamber works."

"You're not supposed to know," he reminded her. "You're supposed to be learning."

"You're very frustrating when you're being patient," she said, studying his eyes intently. She felt her heart beating faster and was grateful that having a third lung meant she wouldn't hyperventilate.

Andrew reached for her hair and tucked it behind her ear. "And you're very pretty when you're frustrated."

Miral pursed her lips and thought carefully about her next move. "You feel it, too, don't you?" He nodded. She leaned closer to him and gently touched her lips to his to see how it would feel. After a brief second, he slowly pulled his head back, but her left hand flew to the back of his head and pushed it forward again, forcing his mouth on hers. Their tongues explored the damp warmth of each other's mouths until they were both surprised by the sound of a quiet, low growl.

Miral leapt away from him, eyes wide in surprise. Her cheeks flushed. "Oh my god!" she whispered, mortified, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Andrew grinned and scooted closer to her. "It's okay," he whispered. "You're Klingon." He took her hand away from her mouth and held it in his own. Then he leaned toward her and kissed her more passionately.

Miral was unable to resist. She wrapped her arms around her friend and felt herself falling backwards onto the mattress.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Miral asked quietly as she watched Andrew pull on his new cadet uniform and Starfleet-issue boots. She sat up in bed, holding the covers around her naked form, and suddenly became aware that this was like every bad holovid she'd ever encountered. She'd made a terrible mistake; she'd succumbed to desire for her best friend, and now he was done with her and ready to flee for his life.

"I promised my dad I'd meet him for lunch," he said without looking at her. "I'll see you later." Before she could respond, he was out the door.

"Lunch?" She checked the chronometer. 1130. She had missed her engineering class. "Kahless!" she cried, leaping out of bed and into the shower.

By the time she flew from the dormitory to the engineering building, class was long over, and Professor Kresich had left the lab. She came to an abrupt halt in front of his office door.

"Cadet Paris," he said without looking up from the padd he was reading. "We missed you in class today. Where is your assignment?"

"It's not finished, sir," she answered with timidity. "I'm sorry I missed class, but I –"

"Save it. Sit down." She did as ordered. He put the padd down and tapped the computer on his desk, reading, "Cadet Miral Paris, daughter of Commander B'Elanna Torres, chief engineer of Voyager, principal designer of the class 3 transwarp engine, chief engineer of the Enterprise, liaison to the Klingon Empire."

Miral just nodded. She _hated_ being reminded of her parents' achievements.

"Daughter of Commander Thomas Paris, son of Admiral Owen Paris, former helmsman of Voyager, test pilot for new series runabouts and shuttlecraft, helmsman of the Enterprise, Academy flight instructor, first known Federation citizen to break the transwarp barrier."

Miral nodded again, wondering where this was going.

Kresich tapped the computer off. "You probably get compared to them a lot, don't you?" he asked, his green eyes peering at her. "Most legacies do. When I was a cadet, I was constantly reminded of my father's heroics during the Wolf 359 clean-up." He leaned back in his chair. "You know what they never mentioned, though? That he was court-martialed on three different occasions for insubordination while I was the perfect submissive cadet." He smiled, and Miral began to relax. This certainly wasn't a standard dressing down so far. "What about your parents? Large gaps in time in their service records, plus a sealed confidential file attached to your father's."

Miral nodded. _Caldik Prime_, she thought to herself, but in the interest of family loyalty she said only, "Both were involved in the Maquis after the treaty with the Cardassians before getting lost in the Delta Quadrant." That much had been made quite public after Voyager's welcome-home media blitz.

Kresich raised two gray fingers to his lips. "I see. So it seems we all make mistakes, sometimes even big ones. You're going to be fine, Cadet. You need to stop being afraid of failing. Now, tell me what it is you don't understand about dilithium chambers?"

* * *

**Resto Presidio**

"Hey son," said Harry, patting Andrew on the back before he sat down opposite him. "How's your first week going?"

"We already had two tactical simulations, an astrophysics test, and a paper on historic myths of Federation cultures."

"Sounds intense. What culture did you write about?"

"Klingon," Andrew admitted with a slight blush.

Harry noticed. "But they're not part of the Federation," he said, hoping his voice sounded light.

"The professor said it was okay." Andrew studied the napkin in his lap, unable to meet his father's eyes.

"Why the sudden interest in Klingon mythology?" Harry pressed, trying to maintain the casual tone.

"It's not sudden," Andrew argued. "I've been friends with Miral and L'Naan my entire life."

"I see." Harry nodded to the waitress, who came over to their table. "I'll have shrimp with fettran sauce, please. Drew, do you want some _gagh_?"

"Dad!" Andrew was mortified. "Plomeek soup, please," he said to the waitress, who nodded and went to get their food. Andrew decided to change the subject to discuss something that might equally upset his father but that was much safer territory for him. "I talked to my advisor yesterday about changing my major." His father's eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing, so Andrew continued, "I've been thinking a lot about what being a pilot would mean, and I think I want to do something that contributes to the larger efficiency of starbases and ships. I've been thinking about engineering and operations."

This was news Harry was not at all expecting. After years of watching his son hero-worship Tom, it touched him greatly to think that he would end up taking after his old man. "Really?" was all he could ask.

Andrew nodded. "I'd like to have a career more like yours."

Harry smiled broadly. "I think that sounds like a good plan, son."

Pleased that his father didn't see his change of heart as noncommittal, Andrew just nodded again and let them sit in silence for a moment.

Harry looked up at the sun, appreciating the unusually warm San Francisco day. He spent too much time in his office. It felt good to be outdoors. It also felt good to think carefully about his next move, while Andrew was in a good mood, lest he retreat entirely and this reconnaissance mission fail. "How's Miral doing?" he asked casually. "Do you have a chance to see each other often?"

"We have a lot of classes apart," Andrew lied, avoiding his father's eyes again. He could count the number of times he'd lied to his father in his life, and he didn't like doing it. Still, having just left Miral in bed, he felt – well, he knew he was an adult, and it was none of his father's business, but he still didn't think he could either tell or not tell. Best avoid the subject of Miral Paris all together.

But Harry had the advantage of wisdom, insight that an eighteen-year-old did not have. "You must miss her, then."

The waitress deposited their food, and Andrew took the opportunity to organize his bowl and spoon, eyes still firmly focused on the table.

"I mean, you went to the Academy the same year," Harry continued, observing his son's behavior. "You must have expected you'd be able to spend time together, take classes together, maybe even have late night study sessions together in your room."

"All right!" Andrew cracked, banging his spoon down. He looked at his father. "What do you want to know?"

* * *

**Paris, Place de la Concorde, Office of the Liaison to the Klingon Empire**

The young secretary looked up guiltily from the padd he was reading as the doors to the office slid open. It wasn't very often that the office got unexpected visitors, and with no meetings or business trips scheduled for the week, he thought he'd have plenty of time to catch up on back issues of his favorite magazine.

Cadet Miral Paris strode toward his desk with confidence, though she had no appointment and had only visited the office once or twice before. The look on the secretary's face as he tried to stealthily slide his padd into a desk drawer told her he'd been caught off-guard. Then a shadow of recognition crossed his face. He cocked his head to the side.

"Miral?" She nodded. "I thought I recognized you from the family picture in your mother's office."

"I need to speak with her. Is she in?"

"Just a minute." He tapped a panel in front of him. "B'Elanna? Your daughter is here."

"L'Naan?" her mother's voice asked over the com system.

The secretary smiled sympathetically at Miral. "No, the other one. Should I send her in?"

The door to one of the inner offices opened, and B'Elanna poked her head out. She smiled as she saw Miral. "Thanks, Anel," she called to the secretary, as she gestured for Miral to come in.

As Miral passed the secretary's desk, she mumbled to him, "By the way, you should skip to page ten. That's where the good fashion spread starts." Anel blushed.

Once inside the office, B'Elanna put an arm around Miral and planted a kiss on her cheek. "What are you doing here? I think I can count on one hand the number of times you've visited me at work."

Miral looked around the office. _This is so like her._ It was sparsely furnished and decorated, with only one or two pieces of Klingon art on the walls, but without looking all the way around the room, Miral could count at least forty data padds lying about.

"Can we sit down?" she asked. "I need to talk to you." Then, realizing she'd arrived unannounced, she added, "If you have time."

B'Elanna smiled as she steered Miral to a blue sofa under a window. _If I have time?_ _I haven't known you for eighteen years for nothing._ Miral's facial expression, combined with a request to talk and a surprise visit, told her that there was something important that needed attention.

"I can make all the time you need."

Miral took a breath, turning away from her mother's face, to summon her courage. Then she simply declared, "Andrew and I had sex last night."

B'Elanna liked to think that she had prepared for many milestones in her daughters' lives. When they were younger, she and Tom had often talked extensively about how to handle different situations. Her own mother, the first Miral, had been so quick to judge everything B'Elanna had done as a teenager and to dismiss problems when B'Elanna really needed support and advice. More than anything, B'Elanna did not want to do that to her Miral.

"Okay," she said evenly.

"And then he ran off."

"I see." She put a hand on Miral's face. "Before we talk about that, I just want to know if you have been keeping up with your antivirals and contraception injections."

"Mom…"

"Miral, this is serious stuff." _The last thing you want is an unplanned pregnancy while you're at the Academy._

"Yes, my last injection was at my Academy physical."

"Good. Now, tell me about Andrew."

Miral frowned. "Did you know I liked him?"

B'Elanna nodded, trying not to smile. _How could I not?_

"Did you think he liked me back?"

B'Elanna nodded again.

"Did you – you didn't think we were already together, did you?"

"No," B'Elanna told her honestly. "You were acting too nervous. I thought it might happen once you got to the Academy, though."

"It's awful," Miral said, her voice shaking slightly. "It wasn't even good – it was really, really weird – and I growled – and this morning Andrew left, and I don't think he's going to talk to me ever again."

Miral had always had a flair for the dramatic, unlike the ever pragmatic L'Naan, but seeing her so upset made B'Elanna feel protective of her. She put one arm around her and held her close while the other hand stroked her hair.

"Oh, Miral," she whispered. "It's going to be okay."

"What am I supposed to do now? Do you think he'll ever talk to me again?"

"I know he will," B'Elanna assured her. "Isn't he your best friend?"

"He used to be." Miral raised her head and wiped her tears. "I shouldn't be crying. It's not very Klingon of me."

"You don't always have to be Klingon," B'Elanna reminded her. An echo of her mother's voice rang in her head: _You don't always have to act so human._ That had been the last time B'Elanna had cried for nearly a decade. Instead, she'd channeled all her sadness into rage – first in fights at school, then combat training, and then the Maquis.

"Well, it's not very Starfleet of me either. Starfleet officers are supposed to be strong. We're not supposed to let our feelings get in the way of our duties."

"Not being driven by your emotions is one thing, but I served in Starfleet for twenty years, and the best officers I ever met were the ones who understood the importance of the feelings they had toward their shipmates. Admiral Janeway, for example, loved the Voyager crew like family, and that guided her command decisions. And she was a great captain." Miral shrugged slightly. "But you didn't come all the way here to talk about what makes a good officer."

"Mom, this – this was my first time," Miral confessed.

_Silly girl, you think I don't know that?_ "Oh," she said, trying to sound casual. She didn't want to frighten Miral from telling her more.

"I just thought – I just thought that it was going to be nice with Andrew. I think I love him."

"Tell me what happened."

"When I woke up, he was getting dressed, and then he just left to meet Harry for lunch."

"Well," B'Elanna pointed out, "it doesn't sound like he was running off. It sounds like he was just late for an appointment. Can you imagine what Harry would say if he didn't show up for their lunch date?"

That made Miral smile slightly. "Harry would go Bolian."

"I really wish you'd stop saying that," her mother chided her.

"So you think him leaving had nothing to do with me?"

"Maybe not."

Miral sat silently for a moment, considering this. She turned to look at her mother, who was watching her with a kind of patience she'd never really seen on her face before. Miral wondered if it was worth discussing the growl. It had caught her completely by surprise, and she couldn't think of anyone – except L'Naan, whom she knew had never had sex before – who might have experienced the same thing. But she didn't want to tell her mother too much about her own sexual encounter, and she certainly didn't want to know about her parents' sex lives – any more than she could hear coming out of their bedroom, anyway.

"Mom," she said finally, "the growl…"

"Don't worry about it. Common occurrence," B'Elanna told her lightly.

"But…aggression…physical pain…" She struggled to find an acceptable way to broach the subject.

"Look, Miral," B'Elanna interrupted, sparing her daughter the embarrassment, "every couple has their own way of doing things. Yes, you have some Klingon DNA, and you might have a proclivity for aggression, but you don't have to act on it if you don't want to, and if your partner doesn't want to. You can do whatever makes you feel comfortable and happy."

Miral nodded. The conversation had gone far enough for the time being. "I should get back. I have an evening study session."

B'Elanna rose from the sofa and walked her to the door. "I'm glad you came to visit. You can come whenever you want to talk, you know that, right?"

Miral nodded again and kissed her mother's cheek. "Mom? Don't tell Dad, okay?"

"Despite what everyone thinks, I do not tell your father everything you and L'Naan tell me."

"Sure, Mom." As Miral pulled the door to the office open and stepped into the vestibule, there was a lightness to her step that hadn't been there when she'd arrived. She called behind her as she exited the office, "I'll be home for dinner on Sunday night. Replicate something good."

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

"This is a surprise," Kathryn's gravelly voice declared as she escorted Chakotay into her office. Once the door was safely closed behind them, she kissed him deeply. "I haven't seen you in a whole week. How was Krylar?"

"No new discoveries," he reported, "but the students enjoyed themselves."

"I've missed you."

"I missed you, too," he said, taking her hands into his own. "I'm sorry to show up unannounced, but I have some free time and I wanted to know if I could steal you away for lunch." He caught the slight hesitation in her eye as she tried not to look toward her desk and knew her instinct was to say no. He wouldn't take it personally, though. He'd been fully aware when he began his relationship with Kathryn that she was as committed to her job as she was to him. Instead, he tried to persuade her with his charm. "The sun is shining, and it's warm outside. And I haven't gotten to see you smile in two weeks."

He got to then, as a wide grin spread across her face. "I can spare an hour for you," she decided. "But then I have to get back to work."

"If an hour's all you can spare, I'll take it," Chakotay said, opening the door for her. "What are you working on that's so pressing, anyway?"

"Reg Barclay and Harry Kim think they've figured out a way to expedite communication with the Delta Quadrant," she explained as they headed down the corridor. "Even Icheb's involved. He suggested using Borg technology to boost the subspace signal."

"The MIDAS Array isn't good enough?" he wanted to know. It hadn't yet registered why this was such an exciting project for her.

"Chakotay," she nearly admonished, "if we succeed, it means we can all talk to Neelix regularly."

Suddenly he understood the excitement. As they walked out of the building and into the crisp fall day outside, Chakotay put a hand on her back. Nearly twenty years, and she was still trying to keep their family together. He was certain he was falling in love with her all over again.

* * *

**San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence**

"Harry, what's with the look?"

"Your daughter and my son have become involved," Harry reported grimly.

Tom looked at the screen in front of him. Miral had "dated" before, to his chagrin, but she'd never seemed overly interested. But dating Andrew was different. They'd always understood each other. Tom knew he'd given Andrew permission to pursue his daughter, and he knew they were both becoming adults. But something about the thought of Miral having a sex life enraged and saddened and frightened him all at once.

"I will kill him," Tom said without thinking.

"Hey," Harry retorted, "who do you think seduced who?"

"Watch what you say about my daughter, Harry," Tom warned coldly.

"I love your daughter," Harry reminded him. "But she's vibrant and aggressive and doesn't really take no for an answer."

"Andrew is not the angel you and Libby make him out to be!" Tom's voice was beginning to rise.

"Are you criticizing my son?" Harry snapped.

"Only if you're criticizing my daughter!" Tom shouted back.

"What is going on here?" B'Elanna demanded, entering the room. She stared at the back of Tom's head with her hands on her hips until he spun around in his chair to look at her. The slightly manic look in his eyes, a look she had never seen before, made her worry. "Tom, what is it?"

"It's Miral and Andrew," he told her seriously.

"Are they okay?"

"They're – they're –"

"They slept together!" Harry called from the monitor.

B'Elanna's worry subsided. She shook her head. "Why are you screaming at each other about that?"

"Because his son –" Tom began at the same Harry said, "Your daughter –"

"Enough!" she ordered. "We have to respect their privacy. They are supposed to be adults now. So we are going to leave them alone to figure this out on their own. Harry, go back to work. Tom, terminate communication." She smiled as she walked away from them, for she actually heard them both mumble reflexively, "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"Did you know about this?" Tom asked as he climbed into bed in his shorts and t-shirt.

B'Elanna looked over her padd at him, making a mental note to recycle the t-shirt in the morning. He had a penchant for holding on to clothing long after it had exceeded its lifespan. "Yes," she admitted. "Miral told me last week."

"Why didn't you say anything to me?" he demanded.

"First of all, I promised her it was just between us," she began, knowing perfectly that it was a lame excuse. Their rule had always been to share whatever they'd learned about either daughter's life with each other, even if it meant feigning ignorance in front of Miral and L'Naan. "Anyway, what was I supposed to tell you? 'Tom, guess what? Miral had sex'?"

"How can you be so blasé?" he pressed. He rolled onto his side to get a good look at her, reading in bed casually as if their lives weren't being upended. Her nonchalance frustrated him as much as his inability to stop Miral from growing up did.

B'Elanna laid the padd she was reading on her stomach and sighed. "I'm not blasé, but what am I supposed to do? Forbid her to grow up? Order her not to have sex?"

"I thought Klingons mated for life."

"Tom, don't be so naïve. It's really best if you just stop thinking about this all together."

"But she's my baby." He was whining, he knew, and there was little either of them could reasonably do – she was right on that front. But he hated the sense of helplessness that had overtaken him.

B'Elanna turned on her side and stroked Tom's cheek. "I know," she reminded softly. "She's my baby, too."

_  
**USS Enterprise, Private Quarters of Torres-Paris Family, 2381**_

"_B'Elanna, what are you doing?" Tom asked quietly. He leaned around the bulkhead and saw her sitting in the chair in the corner of Miral's darkened room._

_She beckoned, and Tom went over to her. She pointed toward the bed in the middle of the room, where Miral was sleeping peacefully. _

"_I was just thinking," she said softly, "that in a week or so, everything will change. Do you remember what it was like before she was born? When it was just us?"_

"_Barely," Tom said. "It was pretty different."_

"_And then she was born, and we – you and I – everything changed. We'll never have the same relationship we had before she came along."_

"_True," Tom agreed, "but I like this one better. Less shield-scraping."_

"_Miral – she has only known this life – with the three of us. She's been the center of everything her whole life. How will that change when she has a sister?"_

_He leaned over and began to gently rub her shoulders. "It'll be a big adjustment," he whispered, "and she'll probably be jealous and lash out, but it'll be good for her to have a sister." _

"_How will we change?" she asked. "What will it feel like to love two children?"_

"_I can't tell you." He kissed the top of her head. "But I can tell you that when I was growing up, my mom seemed to have enough love to go around. We will, too."_

"_Miral won't be the center of my life anymore."_

"_No. They both will be."_

"_I'll never think the same way again."_

"_That's true." He nuzzled his face into her hair and wrapped his arms around her._

"_So I thought I would just watch her sleep," B'Elanna continued, her eyes still squarely on Miral. "I want to enjoy these last few minutes before everything changes." B'Elanna finally broke her gaze to look at him. "Do you want to join me?"_

_She shifted in the chair, and he slid into it and, with some difficulty, pulled her into his lap. He noted how much heavier she was, but she wasn't beyond a tolerable weight on his thighs. Mostly just stiff. Non-pregnant B'Elanna was softer, more flexible. It must have been the additional water her body was retaining. As she leaned against his chest, Tom thought about how __she__ would change. This was their last child, they'd decided. He'd never again get to see her body like this._

"_She looks so peaceful."_

_Tom looked at Miral more closely. She'd kicked off the covers and was lying in her blue pajamas open to the warm air of the bedroom. Her arms were up by her head, which rested on a slight angle on her pillow, and her hair was spread around the pillow and across her face. Her breath was slow, even, deep. _

"_She sure does," he agreed. "She has no idea that pretty soon none of us will be getting any sleep."_

_B'Elanna gave the half-smile she always reserved for his wry jokes. "Have you thought about names?"_

_Tom rubbed the bulge that held their unborn child. "Another Klingon name? For consistency?"_

"_What about a name from your side of the family?"_

"_A Klingon with an Irish name?"_

"_Okay, maybe not."_

"_It doesn't have to be a name of significance," Tom pointed out. "It could just be a name we like." His legs were beginning to grow stiff. "Come on, whatever her name is, she needs to get some sleep, too."_

_B'Elanna removed herself from his lap as best as she could, and Tom wriggled out of the chair. He offered her a hand and lifted her out, and then, still holding her hand, he led her out of Miral's room and into their own._

"The point is, Miral did grow up," B'Elanna continued.

"So you're saying she doesn't need us anymore?"

"No, I'm saying that our job as her parents has changed. We had to learn to let her take the turbolift alone, and then we had to trust her to transport places on her own, and now we have to trust her to learn how to have relationships on her own. She can handle this." B'Elanna squeezed his hand. "It's you who may not be able to handle it."

Tom sighed. "I'll try."

"It's not some stranger," B'Elanna went on. "It's _Andrew Kim_. We know him. He's known Miral her entire life, and he loves her very much and wouldn't hurt her. You know as well as I do that he's trustworthy."

"B'Elanna, sex makes even the most upstanding men turn into outright pigs."

She looked at him for a moment, contemplating the opening he'd given her, and then decided not to take it. He was too concerned about Miral; teasing him now would just be mean. Instead she asked, "Did Harry ever turn into a pig?"

Tom thought for a moment, recalling as much as he could about Harry's love life before he had married Libby. It had been a series of disasters, but Harry had always behaved honorably. "No," he admitted finally.

"So why would Andrew?" She looked at him knowingly. "Besides, how do you know it won't be Miral who turns into the pig and breaks his heart?" B'Elanna turned away from him and started reading her padd again.

Tom thought for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "That _does_ sound a little more likely," he finally conceded.

* * *

**Kim Family Residence**

Libby smirked into the darkness as Harry once again flipped over beside her. They'd turned the lights off an hour earlier, and neither was yet asleep. It was obvious Harry needed to talk, but she knew he wasn't going to do so voluntarily.

Instead, he sighed and flipped onto his back a little more energetically than was necessarily. Libby gasped slightly, caught off guard by the sudden bouncing of the mattress. Then she felt chilled by the cool night breeze as he tugged the blankets, pulling them off her completely.

"Okay," she said finally, tugging back. "If you want to stay awake all night pretending you're not upset, that's one thing. But you're not leaving me without my half of the blanket."

"I thought you were asleep."

"So you steal my blanket when I'm asleep?"

"Sometimes."

Libby stabbed a finger at the control on her nightstand and squinted as the lights came up. "Harry, maybe you should admit you need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," he said. Then he sat up. "Oh, wait, yes, there is. Our son is going to fail out of the Academy because he's too busy conducting his own interspecies relations experiments."

At that Libby smirked again. In truth she found the whole situation rather charming. She'd always thought of Miral and L'Naan as surrogate daughters (a thought she would never express to B'Elanna), and Andrew becoming involved with one of them cemented it. Yes, he was her baby boy, but she'd watched him with other girls. He was usually clumsy and awkward, utterly unsophisticated. Miral had always challenged him and brought out his better virtues. To her mind, having a relationship with her could be the best thing for him as he began his Starfleet career.

What Libby didn't fully understand was how to convince Harry. That Tom would regress into patriarchy was to be expected, as was B'Elanna's general attitude of "don't ask and don't judge." She'd rightly predicted her own husband's over-protectiveness and inability to deal with his son's coming of age, but she didn't know how to curb it.

"Aren't you upset?" he demanded.

"No," she told him earnestly. "I'm not. Why does this bother you so much? You must have known that Andrew would one day grow up."

"He needs to focus on school."

"How do you know he's not?"

Harry just looked at her. "Libby."

"No, I'm serious. You dated when you were at the Academy, and you still graduated with interstellar honors. If this is really about his studies, how do you know he won't still work hard?"

Harry flipped over again so his back was to her.

"Harry," she scolded.

He obediently turned around to face her. "Because it's Miral. He's not just going to date her. Don't you see, Libs? He's completely in love with her. This is it. It's going to change what he studies, what assignments he takes, how quickly he gets promoted. He's not going to be a career officer – he's going to be a Starfleet husband, maybe even dad."

"In theory," she said quietly, "you were completely in love when you were at the Academy. You were going to be a Starfleet husband and father." She'd given Harry up for dead before Pathfinder established communication with Voyager four years after they were lost, and she'd understood that Harry had moved on with his life. She'd done the same. What she didn't understand was learning that he'd been in love with their friend Lyndsay Ballard when he was supposed to have been with her while he was at the Academy. Learning of Lyndsay's death was sad for their group of friends, but learning that Harry had confessed his love for her changed everything Libby thought she knew about the first time she and Harry were together – a time when they had talked about getting married as soon as he completed one year of duty.

"Don't go there, Libs," he cautioned. "We're both better off because we didn't get married back then, you know that."

"I do," she admitted. "We were too young and inexperienced, but that doesn't mean you have to throw it in my face."

"If we were too young and inexperienced," Harry pointed out, "what about Andrew and Miral?"

Libby silenced him with a gentle kiss on his lips. "Andrew is not going to get lost for seven years and get stuck as an ensign. He's going to have the normal life that you always wanted. Isn't that a good thing?"

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Residence**

"Mom and Dad know you had sex with Andrew," L'Naan reported to the monitor in the living room in a hushed tone. "I heard them talking about it."

On the other end, Miral's eyes widened. "They were talking about it?"

L'Naan nodded. "With Uncle Harry."

Miral covered her face with her hands. "Oh my god."

"So are you and Andrew – are you – a couple now, or what?"

"I don't know. He hasn't talked to me since it happened. I don't even think we're friends anymore."

"So how was it?" her little sister asked with curiosity.

"I don't know. Fine?"

"Did you make noises?" L'Naan's brown eyes opened wide.

"I growled," Miral admitted. "It was totally embarrassing."

"What did Andrew say?"

"He seemed to like it," she admitted sheepishly.

"What else happened?"

"Little sis, I do _not_ have to tell you everything."

"Come on, please? Isn't it a big sister's job to do everything first and report back to her little sister?" L'Naan smiled the falsely sweet smile she'd inherited from her father. "Did you break anything? Throw any heavy objects?"

"No," Miral said with clear annoyance. "It was much more subdued than what you hear coming out of Mom and Dad's room at night."

"They are so loud!" L'Naan rolled her eyes with a giggle. "I think you could have heard them on McKinley Station last night. What about your roommate?"

"Somehow, I didn't get one," Miral said with a shrug.

"Ooh, that means you and Andrew can…whenever you want!"

Miral rolled her eyes. "Are you afraid to say 'have sex,' L'Naan? How old are you? Anyway, I doubt it'll happen again. He's too embarrassed. Or he decided he hates me."

"Andrew doesn't hate you," her sister quickly argued. "It's so obvious how much you two care about each other. I think Mom likes the idea, but Dad –"

"Is Dad going crazy?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't think he and Uncle Harry are even speaking right now. You know how he gets when he's overprotective." L'Naan stopped suddenly. "Uh-oh, I think they're awake."

Tom emerged from his bedroom in his pajamas, tying a robe around his waist as he walked. He yawned before saying into the darkness, "What are you doing awake, squirt?"

L'Naan, who was on her knees to look at the console on the coffee table, turned her head over her shoulder, and Tom caught sight of her big, brown, guilty eyes in the glow from the screen. "Hi, Daddy," she said as innocently as she could.

"Don't you have a botany test tomorrow? You should be in bed." Tom knelt down beside her and put a gentle hand on her back. He looked at his firstborn on screen. "Hi, munchkin."

"Hi, Daddy."

They'd both called him "Daddy." Clearly they'd been caught in the act of something. Tom was desperate enough to take whatever crumbs of affection they threw him, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that "Daddy" came without a price. It was, he knew, only used when they wanted to get on his good side.

Looking at Miral's young face, framed by a Starfleet cadet uniform, Tom softened. He turned to L'Naan. "Squirt, go to bed. Munchkin and I need to have a talk." He kissed her forehead, and she obeyed, calling good-night to Miral as she left. Tom turned his attention back to the screen. "Did your sister tell you what's been going on around here?"

Miral nodded. "Daddy, please don't be mad at me – or Andrew."

"I'm not mad, munchkin," he said softly, sadly. "You're an adult."

"Really?" she asked with surprise.

"Just make good decisions," he said. "When you're young, it's easy to lose sight of your priorities. And it's easy to get hurt." He noticed tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Andrew won't even talk to me," she admitted, starting to cry.

Tom didn't answer right away. His paternal instinct was thinking at the same time, _Good!_ and _I'll kill him for hurting her_. But he knew both of those responses would only further alienate him from her life. He and B'Elanna had pledged that they would be loving, supportive parents, not demanding, punitive ones like they'd had. He sighed. "Maybe he just needs some time to adjust to the new relationship."

"When you and Mom first started dating," Miral asked, "did you run away and need time to adjust?"

"Nope," Tom said with a smile, "but Mom did. It took her a long time to come around, to make the shift from friendship to something more."

"It did?"

"Didn't I ever tell you about the day we were trapped in space? The first time she told me she loved me?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I never really pay attention when you tell those stories."

Tom chuckled. "Well, pay attention this time. This one's good. See, munchkin, when you know you love someone, you have two choices. You can demand things from them, or you can give them time and space to figure things out on their own. The first choice is easy. You're trying to follow the rules of being in a couple. I give; you should give, too. The second choice is scarier because you think you might lose yourself and the relationship will end up being all about the other person's wants and needs. But if they do the same thing – if they give you time and space too – then, you see, you're letting each other breathe until it feels right."

"And Mom?" she prodded. Her father, she knew, could wax philosophical for hours if his daughters so much as hinted at a need for his counsel. It was important to keep him on track.

"Your mother took about a hundred years to breathe," he joked. "First there was the time I asked her out and she said she'd rather be with this awful junior officer who was all of twelve years old. I'll never forget it. I don't even think she liked him. I think she was just making an excuse to stay away from me. Then there was the first Klingon romance novel I stole from her to read."

"Mom read Klingon romance novels?"

"She still does," Tom said with a conspiratorial finger to his lips. "Don't tell her I told you. Any time she says she's reading the latest perimeter defense analysis from the High Council, it's a romance novel." Miral giggled. "Let's see, then I introduced her to the joys of the _bat'leth_. She nearly decapitated me. And on and on, until one day she was supposed to do the Day of Honor ritual, but Voyager's warp core had to be ejected, and we were sent to retrieve it. Then our shuttle exploded, and we beamed into space just in time."

"Wow."

"It gets better. Our oxygen supplies started failing, and it looked as though we were going to die before being rescued, and finally, finally as her dying words, your mother told me she loved me."

"What did you say?"

Tom winced slightly. "I said, 'You picked a great time to tell me.'"

"Dad!"

"I know, I know," he admitted. "Not very romantic. Your mother tried to pretend the whole thing didn't happen for a few days – she was always doing that back then – until I just told her to shut up and I kissed her."

Miral scrunched up her face. "Wait, wasn't this supposed to be about giving space? You forced her to kiss you?"

"Only after I'd given her so much time and space that she would have had to jump galaxies. I went after her for a good year, Miral. If I'd have pushed harder or sooner, she would have run away. I told myself to be patient and wait for her to decide what she wanted. And instead of just agreeing to go out with me, she told me she was in love with me."

"That's really sweet, Dad," she said with a sudden yawn.

"It's the kind of guy I am," he said with feigned arrogance. "Give Andrew a little time. And get to bed. I heard you missed engineering class yesterday. Do you want your mother to have a myocardial infarction?"

"How did you know?"

Tom shrugged. "I have my sources. Go to bed. That's an order, Cadet."

"I will, sir. Thank you."

"I love you, munchkin."

"I love you, too, Dad."

Tom tapped the monitor off and struggled to his feet with an inward groan of annoyance as his knees creaked. He crept back into the bedroom, took off his robe, and slid into bed next to B'Elanna's warm body as quietly as he could.

* * *

**Starfleet Academy**

Cadet Miral Paris crossed the perfectly manicured lawn with two newfound friends, Soraya and Hanson, both human. They had just left Introduction to the Borg and were heading toward lunch and a cram session for an afternoon quiz on weapons design.

It had been more than a week since Miral and Andrew's brief sexual encounter, and she was adjusting to the absence of him in her daily routine. One good thing had come of it: without her old friend to cling to, Miral found herself forced to make new ones. And the experience had turned out pleasantly.

She still saw Andrew frequently. After all, they had several classes together. But she decided to heed her father's advice and give him space. She waved and said hello and no longer avoided him like a contagious disease. She also did not force him to engage her in conversation, having decided that when he was ready to talk, he would. She simply had to trust that a lifetime of friendship was stronger than this current bout of difficulty.

It seemed to be working. As she, Soraya, and Hanson sat down at a table next to a sun-filled window, Andrew crossed the room with his lunch tray and asked if he could join them.

"Of course," Miral said with a happy smile. "We're studying for the weapons quiz."

Hanson took up a padd and activated it. "Okay, I'll ask the questions, and you three see who can answer first."

Having the quiz be competitive was perhaps not the smartest move, but Hanson had yet to be trained in tactical strategies. He was also not aware of Miral and Andrew's history. Soon Soraya was sullenly leaning on her elbow while her other hand stirred a fork lazily around her food. Andrew and Miral, however, were racing to answer questions, using devious maneuvers like covering each other's mouths and pouring water on each other to win.

At 1400 the four cadets went to their weapons design quiz. At 1430 Miral emerged, glorious, to find Andrew already waiting in the corridor.

He buffed a nail on his uniform. "Took you long enough."

"Shut up," she said. "I passed easily. You?" He nodded. "I feel so energized right now. Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Not until 1600."

"Do you want to go play hoverball or something? I have all this energy suddenly that I need to get out."

"Do you think we need to talk about what happened?"

Miral shrugged. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Andrew shrugged back. He kicked the floor with his boot. "I have time and energy to talk now, in your room, if you want."

Miral's eyes lit up. She grinned. "You're an idiot. Come on."

She nearly sprinted back to the dormitory, with Andrew at her heels. When they got inside her room, it happened by mutual consent. They began kissing feverishly, stumbling toward the bed. This time, however, Miral pushed Andrew back onto it and straddled him, pinning his hands down at his sides. She was in control and enjoying it until she growled again. She caught herself, mortified, and looked into his eyes to judge his reaction.

"It's okay," he said sincerely. "I like it. I think it's sexy."

"You're sure?"

He nodded. "It's _you_. And I want to be with you."

"I just didn't know I would become so… Klingon."

"Is this your first time?"

Miral grinned devilishly. "No."

Andrew's face fell. "Oh."

Miral leaned down and kissed him again, still pinning his hands. "You are _such_ an idiot! My first time was the last time with you."

This perked him up. "Do you want to – are we – dating?"

"I don't know. Are we a couple now, or is this just sex?"

Andrew struggled with both words to express himself and the rather compromising position she had him in. "I – I really like you," he said simply.

"Me, too," she answered. "You're my best friend."

"You're mine, too."

"I – I love you," she said suddenly. She studied his eyes again for a reaction.

His face softened. "I love you, too," he replied, raising his head off the bed to kiss her. He felt a surge of power and struggled out of her grip, then pushed her onto her back. He carefully placed his teeth on her cheek just above the jaw line and bit into her tan skin.

"What the hell are you doing?" she screamed madly.

Andrew was unfazed. "Marking you. I've been waiting a week for you to give me a sign you were ready to talk, but I knew that if I was patient, you'd eventually tell me how you really felt."

"Whaaat?" Miral's head was suddenly spinning, but before she could lose control, Andrew was pressing against her, kissing her, stroking her hair. After a moment of disorientation, she reciprocated.

She was suddenly very glad she had decided to attend Starfleet Academy.


	4. Chapter 4

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 4: USS Enterprise, En Route to Qo'noS, 2397**

L'Naan Paris stood with her arms crossed, looking down at where her father knelt on the gray carpet of the Enterprise corridor. "Dad, I think maybe this ship has gone to warp without us."

"L'Naan," Tom lectured sternly, "this is a family tradition. And we aren't going to abandon tradition." He extended a hand. "Now hand me the hyperspanner."

She did as instructed with a small sigh. "This is the _flagship_, Dad," she reminded him. "You could be put in the brig for this. You could lose your commission."

"You used to like doing this with me," he reminded her grumpily.

"Yeah, well, I used to like wearing medieval princess dresses, too," she retorted in a tone that matched his.

Tom stopped his work and looked at her for a moment. "When did you get too old for this?"

L'Naan shrugged. "I don't know." She saw the look in his eyes – slightly sad, slightly confused, feeling old – and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dad. It's going to be pretty funny this year."

Tom wasn't fully convinced she was on board, but he appreciated the effort of her performance enough for a little of his own. "It is, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically with a smile. It was better than having a conversation about her coming of age. He turned his attention to the control panel in front of him. "There. All finished." He smiled and winked at her. "Come on." They hurried down the corridor to the nearest turn, where they waited patiently for five entire minutes for their targets.

At 1817 Lieutenant Commander Richard Powell and his son Jeremy came walking toward their quarters on deck eight, section 4C. The commander keyed the access code to the door. It did not open but emitted a few Klingon epithets before a stream of water poured onto the two residents awaiting admission.

"Tom Paris!" Powell bellowed.

Tom and L'Naan came out of hiding, laughing. Powell wiped the water from his eyes, laughing as well. Tom clapped a hand on his shoulder as L'Naan regarded Jeremy, whom she had not seen in three years.

"Is that the best you could do this year?" Powell taunted. "It's good to see you two. Why didn't you tell me you were coming with the chief?"

"She hasn't been the chief for a long time. I hear that's your title now." Tom reached in front of Powell and keyed a different access code, which safely opened the doors to the latter's quarters. "Invite us in?"

"Of course. Let's have a drink. But, remember, Jeremy and I still owe you and L'Naan a galaxy-class prank."

* * *

At 2000, after a long day of briefings with the Enterprise crew, B'Elanna found her family in the starboard observation lounge with the Powells. In some ways it felt good to be back on the ship that had been her home for many years – the first real home Miral and L'Naan had known – but by the final meeting of the day, B'Elanna remembered why she liked the Klingon embassy on Earth better. Less protocol, less talking, less diplomacy. And a lot more bloodwine.

"It didn't take long for you to find each other, I see," she said to Powell as she sat down at their table. "Jeremy, hi. You look fantastic." The tall teenager nodded politely at her. "Captain Klees already got wind of your little prank, Tom. I had to promise you'd behave until we got to Qo'noS."

Tom grinned. "What's he going to do? Put me in the brig?" He winked at L'Naan, who just shook her head.

"Chief, it's great to see you as always," Powell said. "And I swear I didn't tell the captain."

"Chief yourself," B'Elanna retorted. "Four engineers caught up with me in the corridor to tell me how much they love working with you. You must be doing something right."

"I learned from the best," he said diplomatically.

"Or else I was a real tyrant," she said back with a smile. "And now they all love my successor. How's Margaret?"

"She's wonderful," Powell replied. "She is thrilled with her new assignment on Deep Space Four."

"I think she's thrilled I'm not living with her anymore," Jeremy added knowingly.

"I'm starving," B'Elanna told them. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm hungry, too," L'Naan said.

"Do you want to go to the new Ktarian restaurant?" Jeremy asked her. "It's on deck eleven."

"Are we having dinner with the captain?" Tom asked, hoping the answer was no. In B'Elanna's new position as diplomatic liaison, he'd had more than his fair share of formal dinners with Starfleet brass and Klingon High Council members. What he really wanted was to eat a pizza with his old buddy and maybe squeeze in some holodeck action.

B'Elanna shook her head.

Powell grinned. "Pizza and holodeck?"

"You read my mind," Tom said, returning the grin. "Got any good new programs?"

"Race car driving," Powell said, savoring each syllable. He watched Tom's blue eyes light up.

"I haven't done that in a long time," Tom said with a look on face that showed how eager he was to revisit it.

"L'Naan, are you going with Jeremy?" B'Elanna asked bluntly. She caught her daughter's slight jump before the girl covered beautifully, a model of skillful diplomacy she'd gotten from neither of her parents. L'Naan gave a nod and pleasant smile to Jeremy, and they headed off. "In that case, I think I'll go back to our quarters. I'm exhausted. You two have fun," she said to the men. They barely heard her as they made their plans.

* * *

"Just like old times," Powell said happily as he and Tom walked from the turbolift toward the guest quarters.

"Not exactly," Tom said with a smirk. "In old times, you would have beaten me. I can see that you need to brush up on your driving skills." He used the helmet he was carrying to tap Powell's arm.

"I would have beaten you if you hadn't cheated! You rammed your fender into me on purpose."

"That's how you race, Powell. It's not supposed to be a polite sport." He stopped when Powell hit him across the chest with his helmet. But his good humor vanished as he stared down the corridor in the direction Powell indicated.

Outside his quarters, L'Naan and Jeremy were kissing.

Tom closed his eyes and sighed. Then he turned to Powell and said, "We should come back in a few minutes."

"Are you kidding? We should go interrupt them and give them a hard time."

Tom shook his head. "Powell, my daughters' dating lives have now reached a point of absurdity that I couldn't even begin to explain to you."

"What's going on with Miral?" he asked with concern. He'd first met Miral Paris as a charming three-year-old, and he'd seen her grown into a young lady before his friend had transferred to Earth. He'd celebrated birthdays with Miral and L'Naan, baby-sat them when their parents were both on duty, and once even sneaked Miral on an away mission without Captain Klees' permission – a stunt which had nearly gotten him a court-martial from the captain and physical assault from B'Elanna. With his own two sons living with their mother, he'd grown attached to the Paris girls.

"She's dating Andrew Kim," Tom reported. "Harry and I are barely speaking."

"And now L'Naan…?"

"And now," Tom said with exhaustion evident in his voice, "it would seem that L'Naan is interested in _your_ son. And the last thing I need is for you and me to be barely speaking."

"Okay, okay," Powell said. "I guess they're old enough to date."

"Yeah, I keep having to remind myself of that." Tom turned his head a quarter-turn to see if they were still down the corridor. To his relief, they were not. "All clear."

He and Powell continued toward the door to the guest quarters and entered with slight trepidation. All they found inside, though, was a scene of model domesticity: L'Naan was sipping something steaming, perched on the sofa, and B'Elanna was curled up in an armchair with a padd. If there had been a fireplace in the corner, Tom would have thought it was one of the "happy home" scenes from the old television programs that ended with Dad's return home from a long day of work.

Or, in this case, Dad's return from death-defiance on the holodeck.

"Who won?" B'Elanna asked as they entered the room.

"I did," they both said at the same time. They glared at each other.

"Where's Jeremy?" Powell asked L'Naan.

"Oh," she said innocently, "he went back to your quarters. He said he was tired."

Powell nodded, exchanging a glance with Tom that B'Elanna caught if L'Naan didn't. "Well, I'm on alpha shift tomorrow, and I'm sure we want to keep the warp drive at peak efficiency if we're going to get you to the homeworld on time. I'm off to bed."

"It's good to see you," B'Elanna called. "Have a good night."

"You, too, Chief," he said in return as he exited.

Tom considered his next moves carefully. First, he wanted to get out of the racing suit. Then he wanted a shower. But he also wanted to tell B'Elanna what he had seen in the corridor and to pump L'Naan for more information.

_Come on, Tom_, he told himself_. Leave her alone. She's fifteen now._

He opted for the shower.

* * *

"Harry, be nice to me," Tom said dramatically. "I'm a man at his end."

"What's wrong?" There wasn't a lot of genuine empathy in Harry's voice, but Tom didn't really expect it. "Where are you?"

"Enterprise. En route to Qo'noS."

"Hey, how's Dick?" Harry asked with interest.

_Now that's the Harry Kim I know and love._ Tom remembered the first time he'd introduced his Voyager best friend to his Enterprise best friend, hoping that the three of them would be able to strike up a collective friendship. And anxious as hell about the whole thing.

_  
**USS Enterprise, Transporter Room One, 2385**_

"_You look nervous," B'Elanna remarked._

"_I am," Tom admitted, pacing the floor of the transporter room. He glanced up at the ensign on duty, who was politely staring down at the panel and pretending not to hear their conversation._

"_It's going to be fine."_

"_You don't know that."_

"_Tom, relax. You're more worked up than you were when L'Naan had her first ballet recital."_

_She was right. By the time L'Naan's first ballet recital came around, he already knew she was talented. But this was different. For awhile Harry Kim had been his only friend in the galaxy. He'd been lucky to go from outcast to Mr. Popularity in his time on Voyager, but once the latter gave way to devoted husband and father, Tom realized he wasn't exactly swimming in social invitations anymore. Connecting him and Powell was B'Elanna's doing, and she had done well. They'd hit it off as he had with no one other than Harry. So part of him wanted them to become friends, and part of him feared that if this introduction backfired, he would once again be lonely._

_The transporter shimmered, and three figures materialized on the pad. _

"_Harry!" Tom jogged up the step to the platform and embraced his friend. "Libs," he said, giving Harry's wife a hug. Then he punched Andrew lightly on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Enterprise."_

_The doors to the transporter room slid open. _

"_Sorry I'm late," Powell said as he ran in. He looked up at the transporter pad._

_Tom took a deep breath. The moment he'd been waiting for had arrived. "Harry, this is Powell. Powell, this is Lieutenant Harry Kim, my best friend."_

_They shook hands as Powell said with a warm smile, "Harry, it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a __lot__ about you."_

"Powell's fine," Tom said, "but Jeremy's here."

"How old is he now?"

"Seventeen."

"Is L'Naan with you?"

"Yes," Tom said through gritted teeth.

Harry got the idea. "Uh-oh."

"Kissing in the corridor, Har." He ran a hand through his hair. "First Miral and now her. Can't they date guys who aren't my friends' sons? Or, better yet, can't they go join a Bajoran monastery or something?"

"Bajoran monks don't avow chastity," Harry reminded him.

"Not helping, Har. Not helping."

* * *

L'Naan walked slowly down the corridor, staring at the gray carpet as memories came back to her in little pieces of sound and image. Miral knew the Enterprise much better than she did, but she had spent enough of her childhood on the ship that smells, sounds, and the feeling of the gray carpet under her feet still brought back long-since forgotten moments of her childhood.

Jeremy kept pace with her, silently. She seemed lost in thought, and for the moment he was content to just walk beside her and let her be deal with whatever was happening inside her mind. He and L'Naan hadn't really collided that often as children. She was on the Enterprise full-time when he was just an occasional visitor, and then she and her family had left for Earth when he had decided to come live with his father. Their families crossed paths during their annual camping trips and the occasional diplomatic mission, like this one, but he didn't think he knew her very well – considering he'd known her his entire life. And he certainly didn't remember her being so pretty. Those Klingon ridges were really exotic. And she was smart. Not at all like the know-it-all he remembered playing tricks on him the last time they'd met up.

"You're lucky you got to grow up here," he said finally. "It's a great ship."

"I guess," she said. Then after a moment she said, "Not really. It's a lot of pressure being a senior officer's kid. And when both of your parents are officers, it's worse. They're always busy, in meetings, on duty, or on away missions. Miral and I spent a lot of time getting into trouble when no one was around to watch us."

"But your dad wasn't a senior officer, was he?"

"No, first it was Sellick, and then they got Lieutenant Prolad from the Hera. My dad had his fill of the senior officer thing on Voyager, I think. All he wanted to do was fly the ship and take care of me and my sister."

"You're lucky you had them both around, though," Jeremy said thoughtfully. "My parents always had different assignments, and I never got to live with more than one of them at a time."

L'Naan looked at him carefully. She couldn't imagine how different their childhoods had been. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry you didn't get to grow up here with us. It was fun."

"Tell me something you remember. Tell me about…getting in trouble with Captain Klees."

_  
**USS Enterprise, Shuttle Bay Two, 2381**_

_When the hatch of the shuttle opened, Captain Klees and the rest of the senior officers were waiting. Miral Paris emerged first, clambering down from the shuttle and staring wide-eyed at the assemblage of senior officers. B'Elanna and Tom came next. B'Elanna was cradling a small bundle to her shoulder, and Tom carried several Starfleet-issue duffel bags. He smiled when he saw his superiors at attention. B'Elanna stopped in her tracks, surprised._

_The captain initiated a round of applause, and then he and the other officers stepped forward to inspect the new baby._

"_Congratulations," Commander Rainier said sincerely, patting Tom's shoulder._

_The chief medical officer, Dr. Enin, knelt down to Mira's level. "How do you feel about having a sister?"_

_Miral put a finger pensively in her mouth. "She cries a lot," she reported with a shrug._

_Enin laughed as she stood up. She put a gentle hand on B'Elanna's shoulder, and B'Elanna adjusted the blanket around the baby so she could see the face. "She's beautiful," Enin said. "Look at that forehead."_

_Captain Klees cleared his throat, attracting their attention. He held up a padd. "Entered into the passenger manifest on stardate 59237, born on stardate 59229." He paused at looked at Tom and B'Elanna. "Well, Mom and Dad, do you have a name?"_

"_L'Naan Paris, daughter of B'Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral," Tom declared solemnly as he looked down at his new child._

"_L'Naan Paris," Klees echoed, inputting the name into the padd, "daughter of Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres, daughter of Miral, and daughter of Lieutenant Tom Paris, son of Admiral Owen Paris." He smiled down at Miral. "And sister to Miss Miral Paris." He put a hand on the baby's back. "Welcome aboard."_

"Your naming ceremony was in the shuttle bay?" Jeremy asked with disbelief.

"Well, I was born in a shuttle."

"Why were you born in a shuttle?"

They rounded another corridor, long ago having passed their destination. "Let's just say my mother is more stubborn than you can possibly imagine. Anyway, it was the first time a naming ceremony had ever taken place on the Enterprise. Still might be. Any Klingons on board?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Nope. A Romulan though, if you can believe that."

"It's the Enterprise. I'll believe anything."

"So Captain Klees announced your name and entered you into the manifest, and that's the whole naming ceremony?"

"Well," L'Naan explained, "a few weeks later with my grandparents they did the whole warriors and recitation of some Klingon prayers thing, and, I think, my mom had to eat a targ's heart or something, but my parents didn't know the senior officers were going to meet them in the shuttle bay. I think your dad must have told the captain I was born on their way back from shore leave. But there was one part of the ceremony that wasn't planned that happened next."

"What?" Jeremy asked with anticipation.

L'Naan grinned. "Captain Klees entered my name into the manifest, and he reached out to touch me, and….I threw up all over him."

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence**

An uneventful two days on Qo'noS for himself and L'Naan, another successful mission for B'Elanna and Worf, Federation liaisons extraordinaires, and a happy reunion with an old buddy all down – and Tom was, in a whirlwind, back at home. He wasn't certain how L'Naan had left things with Jeremy, and frankly he didn't want to know. Some things were better left unknown and undiscussed.

He wasn't proud of himself for thinking that way. He'd always tried to be the father they could turn to with any problem – but this was unchartered territory, and something about it was really scary. He hoped L'Naan was talking to Miral, and that Miral would tell B'Elanna. One way or another, he was confident the chain of gossip would eventually get back to him those important details he needed to know, with the unnecessary helpfully filtered out.

He got his wish on their first night home.

B'Elanna was reading a padd in bed as she always did, but she tapped it off the minute he climbed in next to her. "So Jeremy Powell," she began.

"Yeah." There was slight waver to his voice that surprised them both. It was obvious he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear what she had to say or not.

"Was L'Naan's first kiss," B'Elanna reported.

"She told you?"

"No, she told Miral, who thoughtfully told me." Tom prided himself on knowing his three women well enough to have correctly guessed that process. "L'Naan doesn't really like him, though. She thought he was good-looking, but a bad kisser and a little boring."

Tom felt awash with relief. "So she's not going to be moping around here missing him for the next month?"

"Not likely." B'Elanna looked at his face. "You could at least try to mask your happiness."

Tom slid down the bed to lie flat on his back. "B'Elanna, I have one friend who's angry at me because he thinks my daughter seduced his son, and another who decided that of all the people she could possibly date, she needed to choose my other friend's son. By the time they're married, I won't have any friends left. This," he said, meaning the new information about L'Naan's lack of interest in Jeremy, "is a relief."

"I thought you'd think so. Make sure you call Powell tomorrow," she reminded him. "He left three messages today. I think Jeremy may be a bit lovesick."

"Oh, great."


	5. Chapter 5

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 5: Mars Colony, Planetary Operations Center, 2397**

Commander Harry Kim surveyed the room full of younger officers working under his orders with pride. Upgrades to the colony's sensor grid were ahead of schedule, and Harry suspected a successful mission on Mars would lead to him being offered the lead on the team that was headed to Bajor in a few months.

Harry hadn't left the Sol system very often in the last twenty years. Although it had always been his intention to become a captain one day, that desire had been put aside when he married Libby. Once Voyager had returned from the Alpha Quadrant, he'd put down some very deep roots. But now that Andrew was at the Academy, he was eager to get back into space – and possibly accept a promotion.

"We're ready to bring the grid online, sir," Ensign Tural reported.

"Sir, we have an incoming transmission from the Olympia," Lieutenant Sheridan called. "For you. Personal."

"Route it to my console." Harry activated the panel in front of him and immediately smiled. "Naomi!"

"It's nice to see you, sir," Lieutenant Wildman greeted him.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Chain of gossip," she explained. "My mother was talking to the admiral, who'd been talking to Libby. Do you have plans for lunch?"

"As a matter of fact, we're ahead of schedule. Do you want to come down and take a look at what we've been up to?"

"I would love to," Naomi admitted, "but we're just on a survey mission, and I'm only a lieutenant junior grade."

"Right. You need permission to leave the ship. No problem, I'll come up."

"Rank has its privileges."

* * *

**USS Olympia, Observation Lounge**

"And then Franklin charged the phasers, so when Neuff went to fix the fused relay, he got completely shocked. He was fine – that's Tellarite epidermis for you. But Franklin was too embarrassed to tell anyone what happened, so Neuff spent every off-duty minute trying to access the internal sensors," Naomi said, laughing as she recalled the incident.

Harry found the story amusing – not as amusing as she did – but he was mostly touched by how much Naomi seemed to love her ship and crewmates. It gave him a sense of nostalgia he wasn't expecting.

"So what about you?" she asked, as if reading his mind. "Ever think about getting back on a ship?"

Harry took a long sip of coffee as he contemplated his response. _It could be a random question. It could be that she's just a little wiser than I remember her being. Or it could be the old chain of gossip. Did the admiral put her up to it? Libby? _"Sure, I think about it," he said carefully, "but I have a job I love and that I'm good at. I have lunch with Andrew once a week, and I'm home for dinner with my wife every night. I live the good life."

"I guess you do," Naomi agreed. "I know I don't have a family – yet – but I'd like to think I'm living the good life here on the Olympia."

"You were born in space. It makes sense that you feel more comfortable on a ship."

Naomi took a bite of her salad and chewed thoughtfully. "I can't imagine being planet-bound."

"Some people say you never feel the same way about any ship as you do your first."

"Like a first love. Do you feel that way about Voyager?"

Harry leaned forward in his seat. "Who's asking?"

Naomi frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Did Libby tell you to ask me about space travel? The admiral?"

"No one," she said, with what seemed to be sincerity. "I'm just making conversation. I thought that was the one thing we always had in common – that we wanted to be captains."

"Well, honestly, I've been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like to be on a ship again," he confessed. "But I meant what I said about the good life. And I can't imagine any assignment – any crew – being what Voyager was to me. Everything else is just a job by comparison."

"I don't know, Commander. What if you had your own ship?"

Harry didn't answer. He decided to change the subject. "Have you talked to Icheb lately?"

"I have." The affection that name registered was evident in her face. "He says that Andrew is one of his most promising students."

"Of course he is. You know, he only took that class because Miral enrolled."

"We all switch classes to be with people we like. You know, having Icheb as my professor was without a doubt the strangest part of the Academy experience for me. I'm convinced he only gave me a B because he didn't want to be accused of nepotism."

"Icheb gave you a B?"

Naomi nodded with wide eyes. "Can you believe it? I grew up around the Borg! I deserved an A just for making past the age of five." She took another bite of her food as Harry laughed lightly. "How's Andrew enjoying the rest of his classes?"

"Just fine, as far as I know. It's hard to get him to talk about much other than Miral."

Naomi tried to suppress a smile. "They've been dating for – what? – two years now? It must be pretty serious."

Harry peered at her, still convinced this was a reconnaissance mission and not just a casual lunch date. "Naomi, tell me something. If you were me or Tom, how would you react to Andrew and Miral?"

"If I were you? I'd stay out of it," she said. "The worst thing I can imagine is my father interfering with my love life."

Harry nodded in gratitude for her candor. Given that Naomi had spent years growing up without her father and had had a rough time getting reacquainted with him once Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant, he thought she just might know something about the relationship between fathers and children.

"I suppose you're right," he said as a thought occurred to him. His own mother – telling him to practice the clarinet, advocating his promotion to lieutenant to Captain Janeway to his utter humiliation, consulting with Libby's mother about every detail of their wedding, exhausting Libby with advice about prenatal care and child-rearing. He'd always known that he didn't want that kind of wife, and in Libby he got all the same nurturing with little of the pushiness – probably because Libby had had a similar mother – but Harry never thought _he_ might somehow end up the meddling one. He was beginning to see the situation in a new light.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Resto Presidio**

It was hard not to look disappointed as Andrew crossed the outdoor café with Miral. Harry had grown accustomed to weekly lunches with his son; it was a nice change of pace to be away from the cynicism of seasoned officers and to enjoy the shining optimism of a cadet. Not that Miral wasn't optimistic or a welcome addition to their party – but he liked time to talk privately with his son.

Still, Andrew and Miral had been dating for two years, so it was his parental duty to anticipate they'd come as a pair.

"Hello," he greeted them.

Andrew promptly sat down across from him, but Miral loitered around the edge of the table.

"Hi, Harry," she said happily. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm not trying to intrude on your time together. I just haven't seen you in three weeks, and I hear you're off to Bajor. I wanted a chance to see you before you leave."

Her affection and understanding softened Harry. "Sit down and eat with us."

Miral gave a sideways glance to Andrew, who nodded his approval. Then she took a seat.

"How'd you know about Bajor?" Harry asked her.

"Libby told L'Naan, and L'Naan told me," she answered. "I'm so excited for you."

"It would have been nice to have heard it directly from you, Dad," Andrew said. "Can you imagine what it's like to hear about your life from Miral?"

"I was going to tell you today."

"Well, congratulations anyway. It's a huge assignment."

"I think what's more exciting is that your mother is actually letting me go. This will be the longest we've been apart since we got married." Harry thought Andrew and Miral shared another sideways look, but he couldn't quite tell what it meant. "Should we order?"

* * *

**Tel Aviv, Lipschitz Family Residence**

The sounds of dishes clanking awoke Libby, and she padded out of the guest room to the kitchen, where she found her mother and uncle noisily preparing breakfast.

"You shouldn't be doing that," she scolded, wrestling a china teacup away from Uncle Ben. "Sit down, and I'll fix it for you."

Ben sank, rather than sat, into the nearest chair. "Well, if you'd get up at a reasonable hour, I wouldn't have to do it on my own."

"Uncle Ben, it's six in the morning. It's hardly late." Libby poured two cups of tea and set them in front of her mother and uncle. "What do you want to eat?"

"None of that new-fangled cuisine," Lucille said firmly.

"All right, Mother," Libby agreed, not even bothering to ask what she meant. "How about an omelette? Uncle Ben?"

"Just surprise me, sweetheart," he said more placidly. "Where's Harry Kim?"

Libby suppressed a smile as she turned to the replicator. To her great fortune, Ben had taken an immediate liking to Harry, and, even though that was twenty years earlier, Ben's propensity for using surnames persisted. It amused her.

"He's on Bajor," her mother explained.

"Bajor? What the hell is he doing there?"

Libby set two breakfast dishes in front of them. "He's in charge of an entire crew who are installing a new planetary sensor grid. It's a very important mission."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Libby looked at her uncle for a moment, wondering if he was joking. She'd arrived two days ago, the same day Harry had departed for Bajor, to take care of him and her mother while their regular nurse took a much-needed vacation.

"Well, Ben, he's a big boy. He deserves to have some adventures of his own. Besides, I have a job, too."

"The museum?"

Libby nodded. "And someone has to keep an eye on you two. And Andrew."

"Andrew?" her mother asked. "When is he going to come visit us?"

"He can't visit you, Lucille," Ben told her. "He's got classes. And a girl." His eyes twinkled slightly.

"Her name's Miral, Uncle Ben."

"You should see her," Lucille bragged. "She's real beauty. He'd be smart to marry her."

"Don't ridiculous, Mother," Libby dismissed. "They're only twenty. Marriage isn't even a thought in their minds."

* * *

**San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence**

With a long weekend free from classes, Miral had returned home to study away from the daily drama that plagued her life at the Academy. She suspected she could get more studying done while keeping her pesky sister at bay than she could fighting and making up with Andrew all weekend. She had worked hard in the previous few weeks, and now she also wanted nothing more than to let her parents spoil her and dote on her as a reward.

L'Naan wasted no time in taking up her role as pest. The minute Miral arrived at the house, she trailed her to her bedroom and sat on the bed while Miral unpacked.

"What's this?" L'Naan asked, picking up a stray padd.

Miral yanked it from her hand. "It's nothing. Don't touch my padds." She pulled out three uniforms and put them in a pile that she intended to give to her father later – knowing he would be more than willing to refresh and fold them for her.

"Miral, was that your engineering homework?"

She ignored L'Naan and continued to pull items out of her duffel bag and arrange them around the room. It looked strange to have the world of her high school self suddenly collide with her cadet self. She felt centuries older than when she'd moved out, and the objects scattered across the room – items she'd collected over a lifetime – no longer seemed important.

L'Naan reached for the padd again and activated it. "Miral, this _is_ engineering homework! And it's really bad!" She continued reading. "Did you fail?"

"Maybe." The weight of the one class at which she couldn't succeed – let alone pass – tormenting her, Miral no longer felt able to sustain annoyance at L'Naan. She dropped dramatically to the bed. "What am I going to do?" she sighed.

L'Naan sprawled out beside her. "Is it really that bad?" She kept reading the padd, in slight disbelief at how off the mark Miral's answers to simple problems were. "Why don't you ask Andrew for help?"

"Kahless, L'Naan, you don't understand anything."

"Then get a tutor."

"Why do I have to take warp mechanics? I'm a scientist, not an engineer."

"Oh, I don't know," L'Naan said, handing her back the padd. "Perhaps because they don't want you to die if the warp core on your ship starts to breach. If you didn't want to study anything besides science, why did you join Starfleet?"

Miral knew when her sister had her beat. "Fair enough. I'll attend one of the tutoring sessions."

"What's Andrew doing this weekend?" L'Naan asked, sitting up.

"Why the sudden interest?"

"Are you getting possessive? I only know two cadets," L'Naan reminded her. "Why shouldn't I ask about the other one?"

Miral threw an arm across her face. "He's staying on campus this weekend. He has an orchestra rehearsal." She took a deep breath, knowing she needed to talk to someone but not sure if a teenager was the right person. "L'Naan," she began.

To L'Naan's credit, she understood the change in Miral's tone of voice. She pulled Miral's arm away from her face. "You and Andrew are having problems?"

"Not exactly," Miral admitted. "I mean, we fight all the time, but we always talk it out and make up. It's just that I've just been thinking a lot about the future. When we graduate, we'll probably move on to separate assignments. It just makes me wonder where this is all leading."

"Where do you want it to lead?"

"Sometimes," Miral said slowly, "I imagine us married with children – don't laugh."

"I bet you'd have cute children," L'Naan said sincerely.

"What about you?" Miral asked, realizing that L'Naan, no longer a child, probably had plenty of her own gossip to share.

L'Naan smiled. "Jeremy still calls me once a month, but I kissed Falor last week at Lenaris's party. I think he's interested in me."

"Falor? That's a Vulcan name."

"Well, he's Vulcan."

"How did you manage to kiss a Vulcan?" Miral asked. The xenobiologist in her was curious to understand how that particular chain of events had unfolded.

"He's half-Vulcan. No _pon farr_."

"And no regard for logic?" Miral asked dubiously. A member of a stoic species kissing a part-Klingon didn't make sense to her.

"He said, and I quote, 'It is logical to engage in sexual behavior if I am to successfully choose a mate.'" L'Naan looked triumphantly at her sister, knowing Miral didn't believe her.

Miral recognized the seriousness in L'Naan's eyes; she wasn't making the story up. "I should write a paper about this."

"Miral!"

"Okay, okay. I just don't understand how you could possibly be attracted to a Vulcan."

L'Naan's eyes grew wide. "There's so much to love about Vulcans."

Miral crinkled her nose. "Like what?"

* * *

**Napa Valley, Orion Vineyards**

Tom refilled the six wine glasses on the table with the bottle of merlot in his hand. Then he raised his own glass to make a toast. "Harry and Libby said to tell you they're sorry they can't be here," he told the admiral and Chakotay. "But happy anniversary."

"Hear, hear," the Doctor chimed in as the group clinked glasses.

"This is an awful lot of trouble to go to for our anniversary," Janeway said with slight embarrassment. She was slightly reassured by the feeling of Chakotay's hand on her thigh under the table. "Especially since it's not really the anniversary of anything."

Chakotay drew his glass to his lips to avoid having to respond. While there was no doubt in his mind that Kathryn was in love with him, she had an uncanny ability to say hurtful things in front of their friends sometimes. True, they weren't married, but they'd been committed partners for fifteen years, and that deserved celebrating. Their friends all thought so – why didn't she?

He didn't have to respond, though, for his dearest old friend leapt artfully to his rescue. "Don't be ridiculous, Admiral," B'Elanna said. "You've lived with Chakotay for fifteen years without killing him. I don't know how you've managed. But I raise a glass to you." She and Chakotay exchanged slight knowing looks as the others laughed.

"It's surely easier than making it twenty with Tom," Reg Barclay joked.

"Speaking of anniversaries," the Doctor said, "I hear my goddaughter has made it two years now with young Mr. Kim."

Tom nodded. "Two and counting." _The longest she's ever dated anyone, and no end in sight._

"It's a great story, isn't it?" Barclay asked them. "The next generation of the motley crew that became the Voyager family carries on the legacy."

"Reg," Janeway interrupted, "I'm trying to keep this wine in my system. Let's go easy on the sucrose, all right?"

But Barclay was on a roll. "Well, since you wanted to tone down the reunion festivities this year, I guess I'll have to wait for the quarter-century." He looked at Tom. "The Doctor and I were thinking about launching a Voyager holoprogram for it."

"A Voyager holoprogram?" Chakotay repeated. That there would be a market for such a thing was absurd to him. Besides that, in his time on the real Voyager there had been two holoprograms about the crew – and neither brought back very good memories. In one he led a mutiny against Kathryn; in the other they were all bloodthirsty, sex-crazed maniacs who mistreated their holographic friend. He couldn't imagine how this latest one would shape up.

The Doctor smiled his sweetest smile. "This time the holocharacters modeled after you will flatter, I assure you."

B'Elanna looked at Tom with slight terror in her eyes. "You mean you two actually intend to distribute a program about us? About Voyager's real missions?"

"People will love it," Barclay tried to assure her. "They can get a chance to be the feisty chief engineer or the sympathetic first officer as Voyager battles the Borg, stares down a void in space, makes alliances with the Hirogen, and all the while tries to get home."

"We're using real mission logs," the Doctor enthusiastically added.

That caused Janeway to turn to Chakotay with equal terror in her eyes. "I assume, gentlemen, that someone in Starfleet has authorized this?"

"Oh, of course, Admiral," Barclay assured her. "It's a good learning opportunity for school children."

"Just how exactly does watching Harry have one failed romance after another benefit school children?" Chakotay asked.

"We'll leave that part out," the Doctor promised.

B'Elanna was still looking at Tom with eyes that begged, "do something," and he was fully aware that Janeway was working hard to cover her own panic and outrage. If Starfleet had authorized Reg and the Doc, though, he certainly couldn't stop wheels in motion – but he could help divert their course a little.

"I want to help," he offered suddenly. He felt B'Elanna's eyes nearly boring into his skull and knew there'd be a heated discussion at home later. "I want to help write the program."

"Well…" the Doctor said with some hesitation. He glanced at Barclay.

"Who better than Tom?" Janeway said, catching on to the plan. "After all, Tom has extensive experience with holoprogramming, and since neither of you were directly involved with missions – for our first few years, anyway – you'll need an insider's perspective."

Barclay nodded. "All right," he agreed. "We'll be the Three Musketeers. We'll make the twenty-fifth anniversary of Voyager's homecoming something really spectacular."

"Good, it's settled," Chakotay declared. "Now let's talk about something else." He turned to Kathryn. "I haven't heard anything recently about the communications project."

"What communications project?" B'Elanna wanted to know.

Janeway sipped her wine slowly, savoring the secret. When at last she set her glass on the table, the look on her face was something like the cat that swallowed the canary. "We wanted to surprise you all, but by the end of next week we should be back in touch with Neelix."

"Are you serious?" B'Elanna asked skeptically. Reg and Janeway nodded. "It'll be really nice to talk to him."

"I wonder what Talaxians look like old," Tom mused.


	6. Chapter 6

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 6: Earth, San Francisco, Dormitory Room of Cadet Andrew Kim, 2398**

Andrew raised his oboe to his mouth, but before he could play the first note, Miral Paris burst into his room and plopped down on his bed.

"Ever hear of knocking?" he teased, lowering the instrument to his lap.

Miral sighed dramatically, shrugging her shoulders, and Andrew put a gentle hand on the small of her back. She felt warm beneath his touch, and her face immediately relaxed. "Make it better," she pouted.

Andrew looked at her brown eyes, her pink lips, her button nose. _God, she's gorgeous._ "What happened?"

"I lost all the DNA sequences from my experiment. Computer malfunction."

"And you hadn't backed up the files?" She shook her head. "Oh, honey, I'm really sorry." She may have been pouting like a child, but Andrew knew how serious the situation was. With the end of the fall semester only three weeks away, Miral stood little chance of being able to recreate a semester's worth of lab results in time to pass her advanced xenobiology course.

She shrugged. "I guess I'm just going to fail. Failing a course in my major. Just great. I'll probably get thrown out. No university will take a third-year dropout. I'll have to become a dabo girl. My dad'll be embarrassed. My mom will kill me. I'll just be confirming everyone's belief that I'm the stupid Paris."

"Are you finished feeling sorry for yourself?" Andrew asked, setting the oboe on the bedside table. Miral opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "Take me to the lab. Let me see if I can recover the data."

"What good will that do?"

"Did _you_ try to fix it?" Miral pursed her lips and looked down. "Miral, why are you so afraid of systems malfunctions?" He ran a hand through her hair. "Well, before you decide to become a dabo girl, let's at least see if the data is still in the system."

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Residence**

"Hey, Cadet," L'Naan said with a giggle. "What are you doing here so late?"

Andrew strained to return her smile. "I need your help. Miral's in trouble."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine, but she lost a semester's worth of lab results during a systems failure."

L'Naan rolled her eyes. "How? Hadn't she saved her work? Didn't she have back-ups?"

Andrew didn't need to tell her the answer. He just tipped his head slightly and looked at her. "I spent two hours trying to figure out what happened, but I can't get her data back. Can you come here and take a look?"

"Me? Don't you have any friends who can help?"

"She's a little embarrassed, L'Naan," Andrew reminded her. "Please?"

"Why doesn't she just tell her professor what happened?"

"She's worried it'll affect her grades that she didn't have the foresight to back up her work," he explained.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Come on, L'Naan. The semester ends in less than a month, and your sister needs your help."

L'Naan smiled sweetly. "Then my sister can ask me herself, lover boy."

"Don't call me that."

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a challenging look. "You're not really in a position to tell me what to do, are you?" She was still smiling, and it irked Andrew greatly.

"L'Naan, don't be difficult. Come on." He sighed. "I'll owe you one."

"Fine," she agreed. "But this is a fine day for Starfleet. Two cadets relying on a sixteen-year-old to save the day."

* * *

**Starfleet Academy, Sciences Complex**

"How am I supposed to get into the building?" L'Naan asked. "There's no civilian access." Andrew held out a cadet's uniform. "No way. If I get caught, I'll end up in serious trouble."

"Not as much trouble as I'll be in," he reminded her.

"It's the middle of the night!"

"The perfect time to get into the lab without being discovered."

L'Naan took the uniform reluctantly and pulled it on over her clothing. "Where did you get this?"

"Soraya," he explained. "Well, actually, I stole it from her while she was sleeping."

"I don't understand why you always go to such great lengths to rescue Miral. Where the hell is she, anyway? She can't be bothered to come let me into her lab to help her?"

"Because I love her," Andrew said firmly in a voice that told L'Naan not to question him any further.

He led L'Naan to the xenobiology research lab, using Miral's access code to gain entrance. Once inside, he took her to the console where Miral worked. L'Naan punched a few commands on the display and then looked up at Andrew, grimacing.

"I told you so."

"How does this kind of stuff happen to her?"

"I don't know," Andrew said with a slight smile. "She just attracts problems."

"Well, what's going to happen when she's on a starship and the lives of other people depend on her?" L'Naan asked as knelt on the ground and pulled off the access panel to the console.

Andrew turned around so he could lean against the display. "Don't make this some moral issue, L'Naan. She knows what she's doing, and she's a good cadet. You haven't been in our classes. You don't know anything."

L'Naan huffed, though her voice was muffled from inside the console. "Don't act like you're so great, Drew. You two have always acted like you're smarter and better than me, but if you two were really so amazing, you wouldn't have needed my help."

Andrew looked down, but only L'Naan's legs were now visible while she was buried inside the console. "Miral doesn't think she's smarter or better than you," he told her sincerely. "And I know you're a better engineer than I am. But I don't like listening to you talk badly about her."

"Why not?" A hand extended out of the console. "Give me a hyperspanner."

He knelt down to put the tool in her hand, and her arm disappeared back inside the console. "You weren't around for survival training. Our group was starving, and she killed a rabbit with her bare hands, skinned it, and cooked it."

"Anyone with Klingon blood could do that." She foisted the hyperspanner back into his hands.

"And in the last tactical simulation," Andrew continued, "I killed three people and lost my ship. Miral didn't have a single casualty."

L'Naan slid out of the console, and they were face to face. "So what's your point?"

"If the lives of people on a starship depend upon Miral, they'll be in good hands." He stood up and offered her a hand. "Whether or not she understands anything about how to fix a broken computer."

L'Naan let him pull her to her feet. She tried to access the work station again. Then she turned to Andrew with a triumphant smile. "Well, big sis will survive for another semester after all."

Andrew looked over her shoulder to confirm. She'd retrieved all of it: genetic profiles for hundreds of species Miral had catalogued over the semester.

He turned his head to her. For someone so confident in her abilities and so willing to challenge him and Miral, she looked awfully young. Miral was, for him, a ravishing beauty – at once mysterious and intimate. L'Naan, who in many ways looked just like her and whom he had known just as long, was neither mysterious nor breathtaking. She was cute – diminutive. Andrew wondered if he felt towards her the way he would a little sister. He took his hands to her cheeks and kissed her forehead delicately. "Thank you."

L'Naan was still scowling. "I hope she knows how far you'll go for her."

* * *

**Dormitory Room of Cadet Miral Paris**

"Good morning!" Andrew declared as he bounded into Miral's room.

She stirred in bed and turned to look at him as her eyes opened. "Where were you last night? I thought you were coming over. And why are you in such a good mood at this hour?"

"Look what I have." He thrust an isolinear chip into Miral's hands. "Your research."

She jumped up from her bed and threw her arms around his neck. "I love you. How?" She kissed his cheek again and again, until he managed to wriggle out of her grasp.

"Save it for later. There's a new cadet I want you to meet." He opened the door further. "Introducing the other Cadet Paris."

"Ta-da!" L'Naan stepped into her sister's room with a little flourish.

Miral inspected her sister's uniform with a shake of her head. "Let me guess, Cadet. Andrew asked you to fix the computer?"

"You can thank me by doing my organic chemistry homework."

"I would if I had time, little sister, but I have breakfast plans with my friends."

"Do you want to come with us?" Andrew asked, ignoring the glare he felt Miral sending him.

"Where are you going?" L'Naan asked with curiosity.

"Nowhere," Miral interjected.

"Actually," Andrew told her with a sharp look at his girlfriend, "we're going to Soraya's parents' house in Peshawar. It's lentils and lamb night."

"For breakfast?" L'Naan asked dubiously.

"It's dinner time in Peshawar," Andrew pointed out.

L'Naan scrunched up her face for a moment before deciding, "That sounds good."

Miral's eyes narrowed. "Well, too bad. I mean, it would be rude to bring an uninvited guest."

"She saved all your research, Miral," Andrew reminded her. He shook his head and went to her computer to contact Soraya, who confirmed a moment later that the rule at her house was "the more, the merrier."

"Fine," Miral conceded, crossing her arms over her chest. "But you're not wearing that uniform. It's an insult to those of us who have to work for the privilege of wearing it."

"Fine," L'Naan agreed. "Help me with my hair so I look older."

Andrew waited patiently on Miral's bed, playing with the oboe he'd conveniently left the previous day, while the two sisters got ready in the bathroom. He wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but he knew it was best to stay out of it. He'd made the mistake of attempting to rush them in preparation for the Voyager fifteen year reunion – long before he and Miral were dating. He'd been rewarded with the silent treatment from both sisters the entire evening, and he'd been left with no one to talk to but Naomi Wildman, who was five Earth years older and about a hundred years more mature, and Sean Telfer, who was five Earth years younger and about a hundred less mature. Tom Paris, ever the big brother, had clapped him on the back and said, "Next time you'll know better."

Andrew looked at the chronometer. 0624. They were supposed to be meeting Soraya and Hanson at the transport center. He fiddled with the oboe for a few more minutes before setting it down in boredom.

It was 0715 when the Parises at last emerged. Miral was proudly in uniform, though she'd showered and put on a clean one. She didn't like wearing civilian clothes, and Andrew thought it was funny, considering she'd almost backed out of coming to the Academy in the first place. Still, her pride over her cadet status was evident in the crisp look of her jumpsuit, the fresh shine on her boots, and the luster of her shoulder-length brown hair. As far as he was concerned, she didn't have to wear civvies to look good.

L'Naan didn't look that bad herself. She was wearing one of Miral's dresses, a violet-blue velvet that made her creamy skin seem to glow. The front was cut a lot lower than Andrew ever remembered seeing on any of L'Naan's own clothing, and he couldn't resist looking at her cleavage. _When exactly did she grow breasts?_ he wondered.

He caught himself, fortunately before Miral did, and focused his attention on her face. He noticed the care with which they'd applied her make-up. The cute, little thing he'd lectured over a biology lab computer terminal hours earlier had been replaced by a lovely young woman.

"Wow," he heard himself saying.

L'Naan blushed, but her sister beamed with pride. "Doesn't she look great? If anyone asks, her name is M'Nea, and she's my nineteen-year-old cousin from Qo'noS."

"She looks too human to be from Qo'noS," Andrew pointed out.

Miral shrugged. "My aunt married a human."

"Whatever you two say. Can we go now? We're already a half an hour late."

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Residence**

When he heard the front door open, Tom barely glanced up from the television set but managed to call out, "Squirt, where have you been?"

"Peshawar for dinner with Miral," L'Naan replied casually, trying to sneak past him.

But Tom looked over at her. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. "That's some dress for dinner with your sister."

L'Naan blushed again and tugged at the plunging neckline. "It's Miral's."

"And she let you wear it?" She nodded. "And have dinner with her?" Another nod. Tom frowned. He hadn't been the father of two daughters for twenty years without learning a thing or two. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Okay, can I tell you the truth?" L'Naan asked, sitting down next to him on the sofa. She was animated, eager to tell him whatever it was they'd been up to. "I recovered her lost lab results –"

"She lost her lab results?"

"Yeah, so Andrew stole a cadet uniform for me, and I sneaked into the lab and fixed the computer, and –"

"You broke into the Academy? Don't tell me those kinds of things."

"Well, I did," she continued, "and then I made Miral take me to dinner as a thank-you."

"In Peshawar?"

"At her friend Soraya's house," she explained. "Anyway, Miral told everyone I was her nineteen-year-old cousin, and they believed us. It was so great, Dad." She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I met this guy named Svetlo. He was so cool."

Tom couldn't help but be amused by her effervescence. He patted her knee. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"Are you kidding? I can't wait to go to university!"

He grinned. "It's not _all_ fun, squirt. In between the parties you have to attend class and do your homework."

"No, I know. I saw how much work Miral had done this semester." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Did you know she didn't even have a single casualty in her last tactical simulation? Andrew lost his whole ship!"

"Don't tell Harry."

"I won't," she promised. "And, Dad, don't tell Mom I had to fix Miral's computer. Miral will be really upset."

"I won't," he pledged in return.


	7. Chapter 7

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 7: Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Main Auditorium, 2399**

It was difficult for any of them to listen to the head of Starfleet Medical briefing them on the outbreak of Norvalian plague on the Quebec Outposts without wanting to take action. When the commandant took the podium and announced that end of the semester examinations would be suspended for any cadets interested in volunteering as part of Starfleet's relief wave to the outposts, the room was instantly abuzz.

Miral Paris sat with several of her lab classmates, contemplating. She'd never been interested in medicine – she'd spent enough time with the Doctor to know that – but the outposts were manned by a rather diverse group, and volunteering would mean a close-up look at comparative humanoid xenobiology, even if disease-ridden. She had anticipated studying off-campus the following semester anyway, so she thought the relief mission would perhaps give her the opportunity she was looking for. Besides that, hearing about the devastation the plague caused was enough to make anyone with a heart want to catch the nearest shuttle.

"What do you think, Paris?" Gia, the Bajoran cadet first-class sitting next to her, asked.

"I don't have much field experience," Miral replied. "But I don't see how we can say no."

"Agreed. The situation on those outposts is horrifying."

"And getting worse," Chauvin, once Miral's biochemistry lab partner, chimed in. "I'm heading back to my room to pack. What about you two?"

Miral nodded. "I'll come along. Did they say what officers are being dispatched with us?"

"I'm sure everyone at Starfleet Medical Academy is going," Gia said with confidence.

Chauvin gave a slight roll of her eyes. "They've all left already with all the medical students."

"If all the medical students are being dispatched, as well as everyone on any ship or starbase in the vicinity, and they're still taking volunteers," Miral pointed out, "it must be one hell of a plague."

"Paris, I think they've asked instructors with field medicine training to lead cadet teams," Gia said, in answer to her previous question.

"Like my dad." Miral pursed her lips for a moment.

Their paths had not crossed as often as she'd anticipated when she'd first arrived at the Academy. In fact, she only saw him in passing from time to time around the grounds. Andrew saw Harry far more frequently, thanks to their weekly lunches. Now that the possibility of going on a mission with her father was in front of her, Miral wasn't entirely certain she wanted to do it. One of the things she liked about living in the dormitory was that she could create an identity for herself separate from her family legacy.

Still, if she had inherited one thing from her parents, it was their sense of advocacy in the face of suffering. If the commandant thought she could assist on the outposts, then she would rise to the challenge. Besides, she reminded herself, there were literally hundreds of Starfleet volunteers headed for the outposts; the odds that they'd end up anywhere near each other were slim.

"What are we waiting for?" she asked those still seated around her. "Let's go pack."

* * *

**Paris, Place de la Concorde, Office of the Federation Liaison to the Klingon Empire**

Surprising his wife at work was just one of the many ways that Tom Paris liked to keep an image of himself firmly planted in B'Elanna's mind as she worked long into the night, but more importantly he liked watching the shock on her face quickly turn to an insuppressible smile when he walked into a room unannounced. On this particular day, he had also come bearing a request. He arrived at her office with an old-fashioned picnic basket in hand, ready to treat her to lunch outdoors in the warm spring air, and to beguile her with his charm before he asked if he could please run off to a distant outpost for a few weeks.

"Good afternoon," he greeted her secretary Anel as he entered the office. He gave his most winning smile. "Is she busy?" He leaned over the desk slightly, resting on one of his palms, and counted on the fact that Anel still had a crush on him to get him what he wanted.

"She claims to be," Anel replied in a conspiratorial tone, his lips curving into a smile. "But it's nothing that can't wait. Go on in."

"Thanks," Tom said appreciatively, widening his smile. Anel blushed slightly and turned his eyes away, and it pleased Tom to think he could still work some of the old Paris charm.

Without knocking, Tom burst into B'Elanna's office and found her sitting curled up on the sofa under the window. She was reading something, but the sound of the door opening immediately caught her attention. She looked up, first in surprise, and then in happiness. _I've still got it_, he thought as he crossed the room to embrace her.

He held up the picnic basket. "Paris in the springtime. Perfect for romance."

"Are you talking about yourself or the city?"

"Both. Are you hungry?"

"You read my mind," she admitted, nuzzling her face against his. "I'm starving. Did you happen to bring –"

"Potato salad," he confirmed, "and cherry pie for dessert."

"What a man." B'Elanna kissed him heartily, then threw the padd down on the couch. "You've convinced me. Where are we going to eat this fine meal?"

"Along the river?" Tom offered her his arm, which B'Elanna took, and they set out.

Once seated on one of the benches overlooking the Seine, Tom spared no energy in serving her. He'd even brought a candle, which the warm spring breeze kept snuffing out, and a small decanter of wine. But when he pulled out the dish of fried chicken that he'd made himself from a new recipe, Tom noticed her happiness being replaced by suspicions.

"Okay," she declared, "what's going on?"

"I can't surprise my wife?"

"Of course. You just don't usually do it with so much…forethought." Her eyes narrowed as they bore into his. "You want something."

"I do," he admitted, filling a small glass of wine for her. "You've read the reports about the Quebec Outposts?"

B'Elanna nodded. "Actually, I was just reading an update when you came. The empire is sending the infectious diseases team from the Mempa system to see if they can assist. They're worried about the contagion spreading into Klingon territory."

"The academy has asked for volunteers to lead groups of cadets in the sciences division to help. I'd like to go."

"You haven't done any medic work since we were on the Enterprise."

It wasn't a "no" exactly, for which Tom was grateful. His wife was often underestimated as a very black-and-white decision maker, but in reality she thought like an engineer: before reaching a conclusion, she'd logic through the pieces. In his mind, it made her an incredibly fair spouse.

"Doc said he'll be on a team with me."

"You already talked to the Doctor about this?"

It wasn't an accusation – more like amazement. Tom knew B'Elanna gave him credit for always attempting to keep one step ahead of her, to make that certain he'd considered every possible scenario before her ironclad logic poked a hole in his ideas. But it still never failed to surprise her when he actually succeeded.

He nodded, and she shook her head at his plotting.

"Did you think you needed to ask my permission, Tom?" she asked with a smile. "I've always let you do whatever you wanted – whatever you felt was right." She savored a bite of potato salad before continuing. "Besides, those people need help. If you think you can help, you should go."

"I don't know if I can help," he admitted, "but at least I'd like to try."

"Is Miral going?"

"I haven't seen her in a few days," Tom replied. "But if she's as much like her mother as I think she is…"

"You mean as much like you." She took another bite, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the flavor. After she swallowed, she opened her eyes and caught him looking intently at her. "Hey, you're not eating."

"I'm enjoying watching you eat." He kissed her quickly, catching her breath. "I don't know what I find sexier – you eating or you surprised."

"I already said you could go," she reminded him playfully. She held out a drumstick, and he ate a bite off it.

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Dormitory Room of Cadet Miral Paris**

She slung her duffel bag over one shoulder and righted herself. Holding on to the shoulder strap with one hand, she reached out with the free hand to gently caress Andrew's cheek. He caught her hand as she started to pull away and squeezed it.

"Don't," she warned.

His fingers shifted to her wrist, and he brought her palm to his lips. He managed to kiss it delicately before she wriggled out of his grasp. "I don't want you to go. It's dangerous."

"We've talked about this, Andrew," she said firmly.

Miral felt herself growing angry at him. "Dangerous" was not a fair criterion. After all, the whole objective of the three years they'd spent at the Academy was to prepare for dangerous careers in Starfleet. As she looked at him, though, Andrew seemed so pathetic that her frustration waned. He would miss her and worry about her, and he didn't know what else to do or say. She supposed that, in a way, it was sweet. Miral put her bag down on the bed and stepped toward him. Placing one hand along his jaw, she drew him near, and his arms encircled her waist.

As they pulled apart, Miral nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing, "I'm still going." Then she kissed him as passionately as she could.

"Mmm, if you don't stop, I won't ever let you go."

"Walk me to the shuttle hangar?" she whispered. She turned and grabbed her bag once more.

Andrew tugged at his uniform pants. "I don't know if I can."

Miral turned to look at him and realized just how much one kiss from her could arouse him. It made her feel powerful and sexy. Since it would be the longest they'd been apart since they began dating, she decided to give in. She tossed the bag onto the floor but cautioned him, "We only have twenty minutes."

"I can be fast," he promised.

Twenty-two minutes later, they left Miral's room, this time with Andrew carrying the duffel bag and wearing a big smile.

* * *

**Shuttle Hangar**

The hangar was a veritable madhouse, with nearly every cadet in the sciences tract present. Andrew, in his gold uniform, looked very out of place. Miral checked the roster to see which team she was assigned to. In spite of the great number who had volunteered, she'd managed to end up on a shuttle with a very familiar crew.

"Oh, great," she said with obvious disappointment as she turned back to Andrew. They moved away from the list to give others in the crowd a chance to check it. "Do you think they requested me deliberately?"

"I don't know," Andrew said, "but it might be nice to get to work with them."

Miral didn't say anything, but her glowering was response enough.

"Come on, this way." Andrew led her by the elbow through the packed hangar to the shuttle to which she was assigned. Pausing briefly outside it, he looked into her eyes and said quietly, "I don't know how I'm going to survive two weeks without you."

"Stop," she warned, a little coldly. Her voice surprised them both. She recognized the hurt in Andrew's eyes with a tinge of regret.

Andrew, chalking her attitude up to nerves and resentment at being assigned to her father's team, shrugged off his feelings and led the way into the shuttle.

Once they stepped inside, they heard the familiar voice of the Doctor calling their names. He first engulfed Miral in a hug, and then he took the bag from Andrew while clapping the cadet on the back. "Some coincidence, isn't this?"

"Why didn't you depart earlier with all the other medical personnel?" Miral wanted to know.

"Oh, I don't know," the Doctor bluffed. "Perhaps because a certain field medic requested my presence to round out his team. You know, I remember a time when your father would go to great lengths to avoid being in my company."

"Maybe he's getting lonely in his old age," Andrew joked, and he was immediately punished with a slightly wounded look from the Doctor and Miral's elbow in his kidney. "I have to get going. Promise me you'll take good care of her?"

"He'll make no such promise," Miral intervened. "No special treatment."

Another cadet stepped into the shuttle, interrupting them. "Cadet Teodora Walsingham reporting for duty, sir," she announced to the doctor as she stood at attention.

"At ease, Cadet, and welcome aboard," he replied, stepping aside slightly to let her pass.

"That's my cue," Andrew said.

"I'll give you two a minute to say good-bye," the Doctor offered.

"No need," Miral assured. "We're here in an official capacity." She gave Andrew a smile as her simple farewell.

"Besides, we already said good-bye," Andrew added mischievously. Miral's professional demeanor cracked, and a smile spread across her face. "For twenty minutes."

"Go," she ordered him, still smiling. "I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"Stay safe," he said seriously. She nodded. He gave the bulkhead a thump with his palm, and then he left.

"Cadet Miral Paris, reporting for duty, sir," she declared, standing at attention for her godfather.

"Save the protocol for the pilot."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Only if you'll stop calling me 'sir.'"

Miral relaxed slightly, narrowing her eyes as she tried to figure out how to say what she wanted to without hurting the Doctor's feelings. "Did you have anything to do with me getting assigned to this team?" He shook his head. "Well, this is my first off-world mission. Can I ask you treat me like everyone else?"

"Of course," he assured.

"No, I mean, really treat me like everyone else. Be curt and superior. Criticize my ineptitude. I signed up because I wanted to help the outposts, but I also wanted to get the real experience of a mission."

The Doctor did not point out that she had just greatly insulted him. She was, after all, his goddaughter, and he had a soft spot for her. And that meant giving into her wishes, even if there were for him to be, in short, mean. He nodded. "I will, Cadet," he promised in a gentle voice.

Miral nodded. "Thank you. I'm going to go say hi to my dad."

She made her way to the cockpit, where Tom sat at the helm, frowning as he compared the preflight checklist on the padd in his left hand with the diagnostics console being activated with his right.

"Cadet Paris, reporting for duty," she repeated.

A wide grin on his face, Tom spun around in his chair. "Munchkin, how did you get assigned to this shuttle?"

"I don't know, but I'm requesting immediate reassignment if you don't promise stop calling me 'munchkin.'" She crossed her arms and glared at him, annoyed as much at the nickname as the fact that he was already causing trouble for her.

Tom let out a laugh. "Relax, Cadet. I'm the senior officer here. I can set a good example."

"Did you put me on this team?" she demanded.

"Nope. Why would I want to go on a mission with you?"

Miral's eyes narrowed further, and Tom nearly laughed out loud. It was like teasing B'Elanna – too easy and too fun to watch her spit fire in response.

"Okay," she said finally, dropping her arms to her sides. "Just promise me we can keep this professional."

"I can if you can."

"I'd better go join the others." She kissed his cheek. "It's good to see you, Dad."

"Hey, I thought you wanted it to keep professional?" Tom called after her.

In the aft of the cabin, the nine other cadets assigned to the shuttle were assembled. As Miral fell in line with them, the Doctor began briefing them on their duties. The outbreak, it seemed, had spread to the surrounding systems since the commandant's announcement a few days before. The medical teams at the outposts were working around the clock to treat cases and alleviate symptoms as best as they could, leaving very little time for them to research a cure or prevention for the plague. Contagion continued to be a problem, although the virus had not yet mutated to an airborne strain. Its effects, however, were rapidly becoming more potent. There were already three hundred fatalities, and more feared in the coming hours.

"How many confirmed cases to date?" Walsingham asked.

The doctor's voice was even as he answered, "Four million seven hundred thousand, approximately." There was a murmur of surprise among the group, and the doctor gave them a moment to let the enormity sink in. "Our job will be triaging patients at the medical facility on the second outpost."

"Doctor?" someone asked. "Couldn't we better serve the settlers by assisting in research? I'm trained as a researcher, not a nurse."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Cadet, but Starfleet Medical is sending everyone within range to work with the outpost medical teams. What they need from us is relief – nursing, triaging, assisting victims' families. I realize it's less than glamorous," he continued, "but it's hands-on, and it's the kind of work you can expect when you serve on a starship in a combat situation." He looked around the group, waiting for them to nod in complicity. "Now, let me review the basic progression of symptoms…"

* * *

**Starfleet Academy, Main Cafeteria**

"How about a game of hoverball or something?" Andrew suggested to his lunch companion.

"Is that you, Andrew? Are you feeling okay?"

Andrew made a face. "Funny, Hanson. I'm serious. I have all this energy to get out."

Hanson nearly choked on his coffee. "You mean, because Miral's been gone for three days?"

"It feels like three weeks," Andrew grumbled, savagely ripping apart a dinner roll.

"You've gone without sex for longer than three days, haven't you?" Andrew looked up at him, giving Hanson the answer he needed. "Wow. Score one for Klingon DNA."

"It's not just about sex," Andrew explained. "I miss her, okay?"

"What's going on, gentlemen?" Soraya asked as she plunked down at their table.

"Andrew's sexually frustrated," Hanson reported.

"Hanson!"

"Oh, relax, Drew," Soraya said encouragingly. "He's just happy not to be the only one anymore."

"I wouldn't be if you would just give in to me," Hanson teased her, batting his eyelashes sweetly.

She gave him an equally artificial smile. "In your dreams."

"Every night."

"Guys!" Andrew snapped. Hanson and Soraya's banter had lately grown more and more explicit. While it had once seemed funny to their circle of friends – funny in its implausibility – Andrew was beginning to wonder if it wasn't rooted in something more serious. The last thing he needed after days of sleeping alone was to listen to them try to seduce each other by pretending they weren't interested. He gruffly picked up his unfinished dinner.

"Where are you going?"

_To the last place on Earth where I'll think about sex._ "Home."

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Public Transport Center**

The long road to reconciliation had begun when Voyager, still in the Delta Quadrant, first established live contact with Earth. John Torres had asked to speak with her, though B'Elanna didn't fully understand why. The strain of seeing her father for the first time in twenty years, combined with the high levels of hormones her pregnancy with Miral caused, had prompted her to tell him she'd write. After she'd made that promise, B'Elanna wasn't entirely certain she wanted to make good on it, but as the pieces of Tom's complicated relationship with his own father began to fall into place, B'Elanna thought perhaps she, too, could reconcile her past. She'd written her father, and since then they'd exchanged letters at regular – if long – intervals.

Twenty years later, and B'Elanna still wasn't sure what to make of her relationship with him. She had learned on Voyager that everyone had a past full of regrettable choices, and that everyone deserved a chance at redemption. She also knew he wasn't going to live forever, and she wanted to heal her old wounds. Besides that, when she and Tom had decided to have a family, she also decided to give their children everything she'd always wanted in a family – including grandparents. Although she didn't yet call him her father, B'Elanna accepted that L'Naan and Miral thought of John Torres as their grandfather. After all, he'd been a regular (if distant) participant in their lives.

Tom, she knew, resented John Torres. He hated that he'd damaged her as a child so greatly, said things about her that she'd overheard, left her and caused her to doubt that anyone would ever stay with her long-term. He hated that Torres' abandonment meant B'Elanna had come to dislike herself enough to nearly turn their first daughter into a lab experiment, instead of the beautiful Klingon child he'd signed up for. And he really hated that John Torres had turned up in their lives so suddenly, without warning, when B'Elanna was in a pregnant and fragile state.

But they'd talked extensively about him over the years, and Tom had told her many times that it wasn't his place to decide what role the man would play in their lives. That decision was entirely hers. It was for that reason that B'Elanna thought rendering a verdict on L'Naan's latest request while Tom and Miral were away on the Quebec Outposts would be okay. She and Tom had always had a rule to make decisions about the girls fifty-fifty, but in light of the extenuating circumstances and the nature of L'Naan's request, she felt comfortable with the decision resting solely upon her.

The request was not a small one: L'Naan, concerned for her grandfather's failing health, wanted to spend the whole summer with him. Her semester had just concluded, and she would return before fall classes commenced. In the meantime, she would take a passenger ship to the small colony where Torres lived and spend her free time taking care of him.

L'Naan had always been a practical, thoughtful child, and B'Elanna was unable to deny her request on the grounds of raw emotion. So on this day, without Tom around to support her, she took L'Naan to the transport center and prepared to send her off.

"I know you're going to tell me to take care of myself and to be good," L'Naan said as they embraced, "but we both know I'm completely capable. What you really want to say is that you want me to be careful not to get hurt."

"Actually," B'Elanna corrected, "I was going to tell you that I think you're a great person for wanting to take care of him. You have a good heart, L'Naan." She squeezed her daughter tightly. "I was also going to tell you that if you don't check in with me at least once a week, I will have the empire dispatch a bird of prey to go looking for you."

"Of course." She kissed her mother's cheek. "Bye, mom."

As her daughter walked away from her, B'Elanna realized that she was, for the first time in a very long time, all alone.

* * *

**Kim Family Residence**

"Hi," Libby said with surprise as Andrew let himself into their house. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to get away for awhile."

"Did you eat yet?"

He shook his head. "I didn't get to. Will you make me something?" Andrew knew he was taking advantage of her and acting like a child, but for the moment he didn't care.

"Of course." Libby put down the book she was reading and entered the kitchen area, running a hand through Andrew's hair as she passed him. "Let's see. I can make you mashed potatoes or roasted chicken."

"Both."

"Hungry?"

"Rough day."

Libby set about reheating the food as she said, "You miss her, don't you?" She didn't wait for an answer; she didn't need one. "She's going to be back soon. How are you going to manage when you're on two ships light-years apart?"

Andrew grimaced. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"I guess not." Libby set a plate of food in front of him. "Other than Miral, how are you doing?"

"Fine," he said with his mouth full. "More of the same."

"Are you ready for your exams?"

Andrew shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and nodded.

"Honestly, Drew," she declared as she tossed him a napkin, "have you lost all your manners?"

"Sorry, Mom." He wiped his mouth and put the napkin politely in his lap.

Once he finished eating, Andrew moved to the comfort of his old bedroom. One of the advantages of being an only child was that his parents had left it just as he had, so he never had the experience some of his friends at the Academy had of returning home to sleep in a personality-free guest room (or, worse, the living room sofa). He sprawled out on his bed with the model Enterprise Tom Paris had once given him as a birthday present.

Libby was still in the kitchen, tidying up, when Harry came home. "Hi, baby," she said warmly as he greeted her with a kiss. "Did you have dinner yet?"

"I have been looking forward to your chicken all day," he announced.

"Sorry, love, Drew just ate the rest of it."

"Andrew? What's he doing here?"

"He came home hungry."

"So you dropped everything to feed him my leftover chicken?" Harry took an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and buffed it against his uniform. "Libs, he's an adult. Why do you baby him?"

"You don't seem to mind when I do it to you," she pointed out, prying the apple from his hands. She returned it to the bowl of fruit, then instructed the replicator to prepare a fresh batch of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.

"Replicated?" Harry whined.

"Shut up and eat." She put the plate down in front of him. "You work fourteen hours a day and come home to a wife who makes you dinner without saying a word about how late you are, and you complain?"

"Sorry, Libby." He leaned across the kitchen counter to kiss her. "Thank you." She nodded that he was forgiven, and he started to eat. "You sound more like your mother every day, you know."


	8. Chapter 8

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 8: Quebec Outpost Two, Medical Facility, Triage Center, 2399**

Miral pushed her hair out of her face before stooping over the next patient. After several days of triaging, she was more certain than ever that "comparative xenobiology" should be limited to scientific curiosity in a laboratory. For one thing, consoling both patients and their families was exhausting. For another, she knew she would feel more useful if she was more directly involved in the process of finding a cure for the plague through genetic research. Any progress that had been made in the last three days worked for one species and not another, greatly slowing down treatment protocol.

"This one's green," Tom told her. "Help me move him over there." Together they lifted the makeshift stretcher on which the patient lay to the other side of the room, where the group of mild cases awaited treatment.

Swiftly crossing back to the new arrivals, Miral whipped out her tricorder. She scanned the nearest patient, wondering when the stream of incoming victims would end. "Red!" she called across the room. "Doctor! Red!"

"What does that mean?" the man on the cot gasped, sensing the urgency in her voice. He clutched her forearm. "What does that mean?"

"Your symptoms are in an advanced state," she explained, trying to sound calm. "I'm going to have a doctor examine you right away." She removed his hand and placed it back on his chest. "Don't be afraid."

"Am I going to die?"

"No," she lied smoothly. "We're going to take good care of you."

One of the outpost's doctors knelt down beside her and scanned the patient with his own tricorder. He frowned, caught himself, and put a reassuring hand on the patient's arm. "I'll take care of you," he pledged to Miral and the patient.

With a nod to the doctor, Miral moved to the next patient. Her knees ached from being on them for so long – she knew there was a dirty joke in that thought somewhere, but she was too tired to look for it. Her back ached from constantly leaning over patients' beds, and several nights of sleeping alone on a narrow cot in a room full of other people made her miss the intimacy of her private dorm room and the comfort of lying next to Andrew.

"You're somewhere else, Paris," Walsingham observed. "You're thinking about your boyfriend again, aren't you?"

Miral hadn't known Teodora Walsingham – Teddy, she preferred – before their mission. They'd had an organic chemistry course together, in a room of forty other people, and they had always traveled in different social circles. Over the past few days, though, Miral had grown to like Teddy's easygoing nature. They'd swapped a few late-night reminiscences of the significant others they'd both left behind.

"Maybe," Miral admitted. "Are you thinking about Isabelle?"

"Every second of every day," she confessed with sincerity. "Why did we get involved now?"

"I wonder just that all the time," Miral told her. "But if not now and not later when we're serving on ships at different ends of the galaxy, then when?"

Just then, as Miral was starting to feel guilty about stealing a moment to chat when there were patients to attend to, a voice across the room yelled, "We have a treatment!" Miral and Teddy looked at each other and then hurried to confer with the rest of the triage team.

In less than an hour, dozens of hyposprays containing an antiviral suitable for all humanoids were being passed around the facility. For good measure, a half-dose was administered to each member of their triage team.

Once they'd finished their duties with patients, the cadets eagerly sought out the Doctor and Tom, thinking that their mission was over. Many tried to cajole Tom into departing immediately for Earth, but he and the Doctor stood firm. They were still needed in the morning to assist in getting patients out of the facility and with final clean-up. More importantly, as the Doctor pointed out, after several days of grueling work, they were all in need of a good night's rest.

"_I'm_ in need of a good night's rest," Tom echoed.

"I have a level two pilot certification," one of the cadets offered.

"Nice try," Tom replied.

"The Doctor can pilot the shuttle," Miral pointed out. "He doesn't require any sleep." Although she wasn't sure she was as eager as the others to get back to Earth, she was emotionally exhausted and wanted to get out of the medical facility as soon as possible.

"The first thing you'll learn is that in an emergency situation, you take sleep when you can get it," Tom said with a stern look at his daughter that told her, if subtly enough that the others wouldn't notice, that she was crossing the line. "To bed, Cadets. That's an order."

"It's like we're children," Teddy whispered as they walked toward the makeshift room that held their sleeping cots. "Is he going to tuck us in next?"

"Oh, come on, Teddy," she said, stealing a glance back at her father. "He hasn't been that bad."

"No, he hasn't," her friend admitted. "I just really want to get back to Earth. I miss Izzy."

Miral wasn't just defending her family as she'd always been taught; she earnestly meant what she said about their commanding officer. The always joking, waxing philosophical, advice-loving, teasing father she knew was nothing like the person in charge of their team. She was beginning to see Commander Paris in a new light.

After Miral had changed into her pajamas, she noticed her father sitting alone on his cot, lost in thought. She walked over and gingerly sat down beside him.

"Something on your mind, Cadet?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she said. "I guess this is the end of our first mission together."

"I guess so." He clasped his hands between his knees, his head hanging slightly in exhaustion.

Miral unconsciously mimicked his position. "I know Grandpa made life difficult for you when you were at the Academy," she began. "I just wanted you to know that you've been a really good commanding officer."

"Thanks, munchkin."

"I'd serve under you any time," she added. He looked up at her, and she held his gaze for a moment, demonstrating her sincerity.

"That means a lot to me, Miral."

* * *

**Brazil, Serra da Cantareira Mountains, North of Sao Paulo**

With Tom and Miral on the Quebec Outpost and L'Naan visiting her grandfather, B'Elanna decided to enjoy a little recreation. Gray though he may be, Chakotay had agreed to take a break from his research to make a climb up one of the cliffs near the university. It had been a long time since they'd spent time alone, and she was looking forward to giving him a good kick in the butt – even though Admiral Janeway had gently reminded her that Chakotay hadn't aged with as much physical strength as she had.

"Watch your footing," she warned him as he trailed her to the nearest ledge.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, but B'Elanna could hear him huffing and puffing from behind her.

"Only about two more meters to the top," she encouraged. She hoisted herself up to the nearest piece of rock jutting out from the cliff's surface and felt an enormous sense of satisfaction as her bicep burned slightly. With renewed energy, she climbed to the top and pulled herself over. She threw off her pack and took a moment to appreciate the view of the city in the distance.

Then she remembered Chakotay. She knelt at the edge of the cliff and offered him her arm. He reached for it, and she pulled him up. They both fell, with him landing on top of her. Their eyes caught for a slight, awkward moment, and then he quickly rolled off her.

"Sorry," he said. "Thanks for the help."

B'Elanna sat up and dusted off her pants. "No problem." She eyed him coyly. "You're a little heavier than I remember."

"And you're not as strong as I remember," he teased back. "You used to be a lot faster than me."

"I was just trying to set a pace you could keep up with."

"Right." He took off his own pack and opened it. "You hungry?"

"What did you bring?"

"Sandwiches." He handed her one and then opened the wrapping around the other. He sniffed it before taking a bite. "How's work?"

"It's fine," B'Elanna said through a bite. "How about you?"

"Fine."

"Admiral Janeway?"

"She's as dedicated to her work as she's always been. We got a message from Neelix yesterday. His son is getting married. He sent pictures. I'd offer to show them to you, but if she doesn't get to tell you first, Kathryn will be upset."

B'Elanna smirked. "Okay, I'll pretend not to know when she tells me about it."

"What's going on with L'Naan? She went to visit your father?" B'Elanna nodded. "Are you worried about her?"

"No," she answered. "She's visited him alone before – just not for such a long period of time. And his health isn't that great these days. I don't want him to die while she's visiting."

The morbidity of her words caught them both by surprise, and B'Elanna turned away to look at the Sao Paulo skyline in the distance.

Chakotay put his sandwich back in his bag and moved closer to her. Since he'd already lain on top of her, he figured a little more physical intimacy couldn't hurt. He put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple.

"What's that for?" she demanded angrily.

He smiled. She couldn't scare him – not after everything they'd lived through together. He didn't let go of her. "I know it's hard to accept that L'Naan has a relationship with your father that you don't have, but you're doing the right thing by letting her spend time with him."

She didn't pull away from him, he noticed. _Maybe she's gone soft in her old age._ He quickly perished the thought; she'd kill him if he ever called her "old," which would disprove any theory that she'd gone soft. They sat together in silence, his arm still around her, for a long time.

* * *

**Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway**

Admiral Janeway slowly circled her desk, as she might if she were trying to make a difficult command decision. The young cadet sitting in front of her was slightly intimidated by the maneuver, even if he didn't fully understand why. What he did know, however, was that he was unfairly using his personal relationship with the admiral to advance his career. Whether or not she'd realize that or approve of it was another matter.

Andrew Kim underestimated Janeway. At the first request for a face-to-face meeting in her office, she could smell something wrong. If Andrew wanted to talk to her, he could easily com her. If he really wanted to see her, they could arrange to have dinner or coffee together somewhere outside headquarters. He'd spent weekends at the farm in Indiana before and could easily visit her there now. The formality of his request had told her immediately that Andrew wanted to talk Starfleet, and years of experience with young officers and cadets told her that she was going to be put in an uncomfortable position.

"I'm happy to write you a letter of recommendation, Andrew," she told him. "I've seen your academic work, and I know your character. But why exactly do you think I should pull rank and get you this assignment when there are twenty other cadets who want to intern on Starbase 74?"

"Because, ma'am, I'm the best person for the job," he said with utter confidence. She had to admire his gusto. "Starbase 74 specializes in refits and repairs. I've been working hard for three years on systems operations. I believe I can be an asset to the starbase crew, and I think I have a lot to learn from them."

Janeway smiled but covered it by putting a hand pensively over her mouth. She was mentally transported to a day long in the past when Ensign Harry Kim had told her, with complete immodesty, that he would have made lieutenant commander if he served on a ship other than Voyager.

_  
**USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant, 2377**_

_"You've been in command on Voyager before," she said in response to his request to take control of an alien ship on a humanitarian mission.  
_

_"On the night shift, for a few hours. It's not the same thing," Harry protested. "You and Chakotay are always a couple of decks away, ready to take over if anything goes wrong. I've been on Voyager for almost seven years, and I'm still an Ensign."  
_

_She sensed an underlying resentment about his rank. "If this is your way of bucking for a promotion-"  
_

_"No. No, I understand there's a command structure and that our circumstances are unique," Harry wisely conceded. "But the fact is: if we were back home, I'd be a lieutenant by now, maybe even a lieutenant commander."  
_

_She could certainly sympathize with his position, even if she wasn't ready to do anything about it. She remembered a time when he quaked in his boots at the sight of her, and now he was standing up for himself. His confidence was admirable. "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"  
_

_With a small breath collecting his courage, he declared, "I know I can do this."_

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" Andrew asked.

"Of course, Cadet."

Andrew looked up at her. "Admiral, I'm not asking you to 'pull rank and get me this assignment.' I know you're familiar with the commanding officer there, and if you really believe I'm qualified, I'm just asking you to tell him about me."

_Isn't that the same thing in different words?_ "I see," she said evenly. "Andrew, you obviously want this internship, and I'm certain you'll be great at it. I don't know who the other twenty applicants are, but if your record is as stellar as you think, just trust that you'll be accepted."

"No mention to Commander MacIntosh?" he asked hopefully.

"No mention to Commander MacIntosh," she said firmly. "But I will have a letter of recommendation for you by the end of the day." She put a hand on his arm, signaling that the formal part of the meeting had concluded. In a softer voice, one reserved for off-duty, she asked, "How are you doing? I haven't talked to you or your mother in a few weeks."

"I miss Miral," he admitted, slouching slightly. He clearly was also finished with the formalities.

"Is that why you want to go to Starbase 74?"

"No," he assured her. "We both talked about having summer internships. This really is the one I want, regardless of where Miral is."

"Okay," Janeway said with a note of optimism as she circled back to her desk chair. "I'll get on that recommendation. You start getting packed."

* * *

**Quebec Outpost Two, Medical Facility, Temporary Personnel Lodging**

"Morning, munchkin," Tom greeted his daughter, handing her a mug of coffee.

"Hiya," Miral replied, taking the mug and inhaling its aroma. "Thanks." She took a slight pause. "Dad, I've been thinking."

Those words always struck fear in Tom. _Dad, I've been thinking. Maybe we should sell L'Naan to the Ferengi,_ she'd proposed as a five-year-old. _Dad, I've been thinking. What if I had cosmetic surgery on my cranial ridges?_ That idea came when she was thirteen. _Dad, I've been thinking. I'm not sure I want to go to the Academy._ Quite recent. He took a long drink of his coffee and waited for her to finish telling him what exactly she'd been thinking.

"I was planning to spend the summer off campus," Miral began. "After being here for awhile, well, I was thinking that maybe I'd stay. I can see why you liked being a medic. I mean, last night I was completely exhausted and would have done anything to get out of this place, but I realized that what we've been doing has made a huge impact on these people's lives."

"What about your research?"

"I'd planned to spend the summer profiling genetic samples," she explained. "Why can't I do that here? There's an abundance of species from different worlds."

Tom nodded; she was right on that front. "What about Andrew?"

"Da-ad."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. You know I love Andrew," she said earnestly. "Maybe we'll even get married after we graduate. But shouldn't I live a little first? I can't let Andrew be the whole reason I don't stay here. I'm supposed to be working on my career, and so is he. Don't you think we owe it to our relationship to see if it can withstand a few months apart?

"No argument here," Tom said. He agreed in principle, but he suspected that somehow the real conversation with Andrew wouldn't play out quite so smoothly.

Miral's face relaxed a little. "Teddy – Cadet Walsingham – is staying, too. She really misses her girlfriend, but they decided that as future Starfleet officers, they have to do what's in the best interest of their careers. Anyway, Teddy already talked to her advisor. He said she can count her research with the medical team as lab credit."

"Do you know that the medical team will even approve of you staying?" Tom asked. "They're in the midst of cleaning up from a plague, Miral. This isn't exactly the time for them to be mentoring cadets."

"I asked the Doctor to speak with Dr. Phelan last night, and he says Dr. Phelan welcomes anyone who wants to continue on here," Miral explained. "I've planned for every contingency, Dad." _I've learned a thing or two from you over the years. _

"You don't have enough stuff to stay here for three months." Tom knew he was throwing up flimsy excuses, but it wasn't to try to stop her. It was because she seemed to have a thoughtful counter to each of his arguments. He'd never seen her so rational and mature before, and he wanted to see exactly how many contingencies she'd planned for.

"I'll replicate some new clothes. Or get them at the market." She eyed him slyly. "With L'Naan gone, and me here, it means you and Mom will have two months to yourselves."

"That's definitely a benefit," he answered with a slight wink at her. "Munchkin, I think it's a great idea. I really do." He kissed the top of her forehead and squeezed her. "You've really become a responsible woman."

Miral's nose crinkled slightly as she pulled away from him. For the duration of their mission, they'd managed to maintain a respectful relationship. Leave it to her father to destroy it on the last day with a sloppy kiss in front of her nine peers.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Dormitory Room of Cadet Andrew Kim**

When he received Miral's message saying that she was staying at the Quebec Outposts, Andrew was at first hurt that she hadn't consulted with him and that she wasn't eager to return to him. He'd immediately sent a subspace message back, protesting her decision and asking her to clarify what it meant for their relationship. Her response was measured, reasoned, distinctly un-Miral.

Now Andrew sat at his computer, rereading the message he was about to send in response for the third time. Part of him was uncertain he was making the right choice – no, he was _certain_ he was making the _wrong_ choice – but the part of him that was hurt was winning out. He supposed, though, that wounded lovers often did things they knew would only aggravate a situation as a last-ditch effort to persuade their beloveds. He sent the message.

He was still mulling over his decision when Hanson burst into his room, bubbling over about something. The very sight of his friend's countenance annoyed Andrew, who wanted to brood and sulk in private.

"Hey, it's lentils and lamb night," Hanson reminded him. "Soraya said you never told her whether or not you were coming. Her mom asked about you."

"I'm not going," Andrew told him. "I'm just going to stay here and study."

"What? Why?"

"Why do I want to go to lentils and lamb night with you and Soraya?" Andrew asked him. "Just to watch you two flirt with each other?"

Hanson tried to cover a slight smile. "I do not flirt with Soraya. We just joke around."

"Give me a break. The sexual tension between you two could power a warp core."

"Yeah, right," Hanson said coolly. "You're just jealous that your girlfriend's gone. When is she coming back anyway? The news feed said they'd finally found a cure for the plague."

"She's not."

"What?"

Andrew turned to look at him. "She's not coming back. She decided to stay on the outpost."

Hanson's eyes finally registered the duffel bag that was sitting atop Andrew's bed. "Why does it look like you're going on a trip somewhere?" he pressed. "Come on, Kim, out with it. What's going on?"

"Miral and I just broke up," he informed Hanson. "I'm leaving for Starbase 74 early. The T'Pau departs tomorrow."

"Must be nice to have a dad in Starfleet who can arrange all of that for you," Hanson said bitterly.

"Actually, it's better to have a godmother who's an admiral," Andrew admitted.

"Admiral Janeway? Do you think she can help me with my placement? I still haven't heard back from the Mars colony, and I only have two days left to figure out what I'm doing this summer."

"Hanson, don't you want to go somewhere a little farther than Mars? The whole point of spending a semester off-campus is to see something new. How many times have you been to Mars?"

"Quit being such a grouch," Hanson commanded. "Listen, if you're leaving tomorrow, you really should come to dinner, so we can send you off." Something registered. "Did you say you and Miral broke up?"

"Speedy response time," Andrew grumbled. He reached instinctively for his oboe.

"What happened?"

"I really don't want to talk about it," he said, lifting the oboe to his mouth. He began to play, hoping Hanson would take the hint.

Whether or not Hanson understood Andrew wanted to him leave, he stayed. He sat on Andrew's bed and asked again, "What happened?"

Andrew quit playing but held the oboe protectively to his chest. "She said she needs to, quote, 'live a little.'"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"That," Andrew explained tersely, "is Miral's way of telling me she intends to have sex with someone else before she comes back here."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Andrew started playing the oboe again.


	9. Chapter 9

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 9: Starfleet Academy Flight Range, Near Saturn, 2399**

"Remember when we used to have these chats while making repairs ourselves?" Tom asked with delight as he and Harry watched the group of shuttles off their port bow. "It's nice to supervise other people doing the work, isn't it?"

"Why are you making them do this?" Harry wanted to know. "Don't the student engineers perform a maintenance check before every flight?"

"Sure, but how many times have you been on a shuttle that ran into problems mid-flight? If you're in a single-pilot craft, who's going to help you? A well-rounded pilot should know how to fix his own ship."

Harry had known for some time that Tom was a good flight instructor, but he had to once again himself of his friend's efficacy. _The man was made to teach people how to be good at flying._ He leaned forward slightly to look out the viewport. "Number three has a problem with the starboard thruster."

"How can you tell from here?" Tom asked.

"Trust me."

Tom looked at Harry for a moment before he hailed the number three shuttle. "Peyton, check your starboard thruster," he instructed.

"Aye, sir," came the reply. "My magnetic field is out of alignment by .2 microns."

Harry gave Tom a smug look.

"So, Harry, are you going to tell me why you wanted to come out here with me?"

He sighed. "I'm not trying to interfere, and I'm not trying to start an argument with you. I just want some advice."

"About what?" Tom asked.

"Andrew. He's completely shattered about Miral."

Tom gave a little laugh. "He just misses her, Harry. He'll be fine once he gets to the starbase and gets his field training going. The summer will pass quickly, and before they know it, fall semester will be starting."

Harry peered at Tom. "Miral didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"They broke up."

Tom turned quickly in his chair to look at his friend. "What?"

Harry nodded. "Andrew was so upset that he got Admiral Janeway to arrange for him to leave for Starbase 74 early. He's already gone."

"Miral never said anything to me," Tom said earnestly. His mind was replaying his last conversation with her in his mind: she told him how much she liked working on the Quebec Outpost and she reported what she and Teddy Walsingham had been doing in their free time. She'd said nothing about Andrew – but, then again, he hadn't asked either. Not for the first time, Tom felt a little disappointed in himself as a father.

"We had enough problems when they started dating," Harry said with an exhausted voice. "I don't want to get into it again about them breaking up."

"Right," Tom agreed quickly. He and Harry had fought for months when Andrew and Miral had first started dating, and now three years later they were both lamenting the break-up. The turnaround was strange. "So what are we going to do to cheer Andrew up?"

* * *

**Quebec Outpost Two, Medical Facility, Shared Room of Cadets Miral Paris and Teodora Walsingham**

After a long day of comparative xenobiology, Miral Paris and Teodora Walsingham had gone to the local watering hole, where they had sampled a variety of beverages the bartender colorfully described as "strong enough to put hair on their chests." No hair had grown, but they had stumbled, arm in arm, back to their room, giggling all the way. It was a good thing they'd worn civvies, lest they get reprimanded for their behavior.

Now, collapsing onto Teddy's bed, they laughed uncontrollably at nothing for a few minutes before Miral finally found her breath. She lay back against the pillows, one arm draped across her forehead, and said, "Oh, hell, Teddy. I haven't gone this long without sex since Andrew and I started dating."

Teddy lay beside Miral, staring up at the ceiling, and asked, "Didn't you two decide you were on a break?"

"So?"

"So you should go have sex with someone else."

Miral sat up – too quickly, she realized only too late. She clutched her spinning stomachs. "You're drunk, Teddy. Making no sense."

"You're drunk, too, Paris. I thought Klingons could hold their liquor."

"I've got two stomachs," Miral told her as she slid off the bed, "and both of them are queasy." She stumbled to the bathroom and hovered over the disposal in anticipation of vomiting.

Miral felt her hair being pulled back from her face, and then a hypospray being pressed to her neck. Teddy rubbed Miral's shoulders. "You may have two queasy stomachs, but you also have a metabolic system that reacts with alizine. Feel better?"

Miral nodded slowly as the nausea subsided. She wiped her clammy forehead with the back of a hand. "How did you get your hands on that?"

"Dr. Phelan gave me a few vials of various medicines to test on my genetic samples," she explained.

"Well, thanks."

"No problem," Teddy mumbled, tossing the hypospray on Miral's bed. She fell face-first onto her own.

Leaning against the doorframe, Miral watched her. It was remarkable how close they'd grown in the last two months. She'd confided more in her roommate than she ever did in Andrew. Teddy was easier to talk to. She was more likely to shrug things off while Andrew was deeply sensitive. If Miral didn't phrase something the right way, she would hurt him. It was just one of the qualities of Andrew Kim that Miral had come to realize really annoyed her.

"You know, Teddy," she pointed out, "you've been pretty faithful to Isabelle. I haven't seen you with anyone else since we got here."

"Yeah, well," Teddy answered, her voice muffled by the pillow into which she was speaking, "Izzy and I aren't on a break. I didn't tell her I needed to 'live a little.'"

"Don't you miss her?"

"Don't you miss Andrew?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"You sound like my sister," Miral told her. "The point is that people shouldn't go around marrying the first person they have sex with. It's so…provincial."

"That's why you broke up with him? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"I did _not_ break up with him," Miral insisted. "I merely suggested that we spend some time apart before starting our last year at the Academy. He's the one who told me not to bother coming back. I'm still in love with him."

Teddy snorted. "You'd better hope he knows that."

Miral sat down delicately next to Teddy, trying not to jostle the mattress. "What do you mean?"

She turned her head to the side so she could see Miral. "How do you know he's not off sleeping with someone else?" When Miral didn't answer, she said more enthusiastically, "The best cure for a hangover is to keep getting drunk. Let's go to that nightclub Stett told us about. We're going to find you a man."

* * *

**Starbase 74, Shared Quarters of Cadets Andrew Kim and Olnar**

It had been two months since Miral had declared she wanted to "live a little" and since he had replied that he didn't want to talk to her until she was done doing so. It had been one month and three weeks since he'd sent an apology, to which she had not replied.

It had been one month and one week since Andrew had arrived at the starbase early, thanks to Admiral Janeway, and he was beginning to settle into his routine. His work under the chief of operations was really stimulating, and the maintenance they performed to various starships that docked at the base was giving him hands-on experience he knew he could use after graduating. Andrew was glad he'd decided to spend the summer off-campus. All in all, it was turning out to be an educationally beneficial experience.

It was the personal experience that hadn't gone quite as smoothly. He'd faithfully sent Miral a message chronicling his adventure every Monday evening until last week. She never replied, never sent her own messages, and – he suspected, though he didn't have any concrete proof – she'd told his parents and friends not to tell him what she was up to. He got the hint. If Miral wanted to live, she could live. He'd brooded enough over what he had done wrong. Now he was just angry and ready to live a little himself.

That living began with his roommate, Olnar, who lived up to every stereotype about Bolians. He was generally gregarious, to the extent that Andrew had learned to tell him point-blank to shut up. Olnar never took the hint when Andrew tried to suggest politely that he didn't want to talk – or listen –so saying it outright was more agreeable to both. Olnar was fun during their off-duty hours, and the two had joined a poker game with a circle of ensigns who remembered life as cadets all too well and had taken Andrew and Olnar under their wings. Olnar was tidy, too, which greatly pleased Andrew, even if that tidiness sometimes extended to Olnar chastising him about their bathroom.

More importantly, Olnar was not Hanson. He didn't have a girlfriend. He didn't have anyone in whom he was trying to pretend he wasn't interested. He didn't remind Andrew of home and of Miral. It was a great arrangement.

"Hey, buddy," Olnar greeted him as he entered their quarters after his duty shift. "I just heard from the bartender that a ship of Trill females just docked. Get dressed in something nice. We're going out tonight."

"Olnar, you can't even engage in sexual activity with a Trill. Why are you so excited?"

"I'm not excited for myself. I'm excited for you. Now get dressed."

Andrew sighed. "I don't really want you parading me around the starbase, trying to find me a new girlfriend. I have duties to attend to. I came here to focus on work."

"That's really admirable," Olnar said, unfazed. "You'll make a great officer. But right now you need to get out of your uniform and come with me."

"Can you calm down a little bit? You're starting to scare me. Why the big hurry, anyway?"

Olnar shrugged. "You sit around here brooding every night. I'd like to have the place to myself once in awhile."

Andrew laughed. "You know," he admitted, "I was just thinking that it might be time to put Miral Paris behind me. All right. Let's go."

"Out of uniform, first," his roommate reminded him.

"Oh, right. I guess if I'm going to go make an ass of myself hitting on some Trill, I probably shouldn't be wearing a Starfleet uniform while I do it."

* * *

**Quebec Outpost Two, Central Plaza, Saint Lawrence Libations**

Miral couldn't believe she'd been talked into going back out after she and Teddy had spent the earlier part of the evening drunk. Yet here she was – in yet another local watering hole, sitting among settlers from all over two quadrants, sipping something green and acidic that burned her esophagus as it went down.

Teddy, who hadn't had the benefit of a dosage of alizine earlier, wasn't even trying to hold her liquor. She slouched on her barstool and held her head up with one hand by propping an elbow on the bar. With the other hand, she lazily twirled her glass back and forth on the glossy bar, staring with wonder at the trails she saw behind it.

The green liquor was certainly having an effect on Miral's system, but she was still sober enough to recognize how far gone her roommate was. The responsible part of her said it was probably time to take Teddy home, but something about watching her was too amusing.

"Hey, Teddy," she said, leaning closer, "if you feel sick, tell me, okay? I brought a hypospray in my bag."

"No problem," Teddy assured her with faux confidence. She tried to pat Miral's face but missed by a few centimeters. The force of doing so nearly made her fall off her barstool, and Miral grabbed her arms and sat her squarely back down. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Miral said with a laugh. "Maybe you should switch to something else." She caught the bartender's eye and requested a glass of water. He brought the glass to her with a knowing nod, and she put Teddy's hand around the glass. "Here, drink up."

"Is she going to be all right?" the bartender asked.

Miral looked up at him and noticed that he was very attractive. She hadn't been paying attention when they'd first arrived; she and Teddy were too busy scouting the patrons. But he had a kind of lustrous dark skin and penetrating brown eyes, and his question rang of genuine sympathy – not at all the voice of a jaded barkeep.

"I think she'll be okay," Miral told him. "But if you want me to get her out of here…"

"No, no," he said quickly. "You should stay – at least until she's able to walk home." He smiled at her.

With that smile, Miral discovered that she was aroused.

* * *

**Starbase 74, Deck Five, Crew Recreational Facilities**

Andrew had met few Trills before, and the bar on deck five was currently populated with tenfold more than he'd ever seen in his life. Olnar was right – but more than that, the Trills scattered around the rec hall were almost all stunningly beautiful and giving off every indication that they, like Andrew, were looking for a good time.

He hadn't really intended to be quite so seedy, but somehow once Olnar had convinced him to come to the bar, Andrew's mission had quickly changed from having a night of carefree fun to finding someone to go back to his quarters with him. The part of his mental faculties that were still in control only hoped that none of Starbase 74 crew recognized his wanton desperation – he certainly didn't want to be accused of conduct unbecoming an officer.

"May I offer you a drink?" he asked a brown-haired woman as he approached her. Where exactly he'd gained the confidence to walk up to a woman and offer her a drink had come from, he wasn't sure. But he liked this new, improved self, and he intended to make full use of it.

"I already have a drink," she replied with a smile, holding up what looked like a glass of Saurian brandy.

"Then can I offer you some conversation?"

Her smile widened, and she made a swooping gesture to the empty seat beside her.

"I'm Andrew, by the way," he said, extending his hand to her.

"I'm Riffa," she greeted him.

_Cold hands, just like they always say about Trills._ "Do you have a second name?" he asked with courage.

"Do you?"

"Yes, Kim."

"Kahn," she said. "Know anything about the Kahn symbiont?"

"I can't say that I do." He waved to the bartender and pointed toward her drink. "Should I?"

"That depends. Should I know anything about the Kim family?"

_Okay, she's definitely flirting. _

The bartender arrived with two more glasses of Saurian brandy. Andrew took one and slid the other in front of her on the bar. He was having fun – Olnar had been right.

It occurred to Andrew that this was the first time in his life he'd actually flirted with a stranger. Because he and Miral were only eighteen when they started dating, he'd never actually walked into a bar – or any place – and struck up a conversation with someone he didn't know. And although he'd dated in high school, Miral was the only person with whom he'd ever had sex. And at that moment he was quite curious to find out what sex was like with someone else.


	10. Chapter 10

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 10: Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, 2399**

The long summer was finally over, and the grounds of Starfleet Academy were once again populated with its full complement of cadets. Miral Paris and her roommate Teodora Walsingham had extended their stay at the medical facility on Quebec Outpost Two until the last possible moment, arriving back in San Francisco only one day before their new semester was scheduled to begin. Their time off-campus had been productive and enlightening for both of them, but for separate reasons each had avoided returning home earlier than was necessary. Teddy wanted to finish a research project she'd begun in order to receive full academic credit for it, and she'd only completed it the day before hopping a ship for Earth with Miral's help and a few all-nighters. Miral had lingered at the outpost longer than was necessary in part to help Teddy and because she enjoyed her company, but mostly because she was avoiding returning to the place where she knew she'd be faced with her demons.

Once she and Teddy were transported to the surface, she stood still for a moment, looking around the grounds, mentally preparing herself. For Teddy returning to the Academy meant reuniting with her girlfriend, whom Miral knew she had missed terribly. For Miral it meant Andrew, her father, Andrew's father, their friends, and a whole smattering of other people who probably knew about their break-up and would have a lot of questions to ask.

Sensing Miral's anxiety, Teddy put an easy hand on her shoulder. "I'll walk you to the dormitory," she offered. "Do you have your new room assignment yet?"

Miral nodded and took a deep breath. Funny how Survival Strategies and various tactical simulations failed to shake her, but the mere thought of seeing Andrew was making her nervous.

"Isabelle and I made dinner plans," Teddy continued as they headed across campus toward the dormitories. "Otherwise, I'd stay with you until you talk to him."

"Until?"

"Miral, you have to talk to him."

"How do you even know he's here?" Miral asked. "Classes don't begin until tomorrow. He could still be en route. Or he could be at his parents'."

Teddy shook her head. "He sent you a message yesterday. Didn't you read it?"

"No," Miral admitted. "Did you?"

"Only by accident," Teddy confessed. "Don't be angry. When I saw that it was from San Francisco, I thought it was Izzy."

"Right," Miral said with total disbelief. Somehow, though, she couldn't muster the strength to be angry. "Well, what did he have to say?"

"That he thinks you two need to have a talk. And I agree."

"Teddy, stay out of it."

"Well, what are you going to do? Avoid him for the next year?"

"Maybe."

"And what about all your friends?"

"He can have them. Soraya only sent me three messages all summer anyway."

Teddy rolled her eyes. "You're acting like a child, Paris. I've never seen you like this before." A thought occurred to her. "This is about the bartender, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Teddy."

"Okay, okay." She opened the door to the dormitory and followed Miral inside.

Miral marched down the hall with her usual confident stride to her new room for the year. Then she turned in the doorway. "Hey Teddy? I really want to meet Isabelle," she said sincerely.

"I want you to meet her. But not tonight, okay?"

"Breakfast tomorrow morning before the opening convocation?"

Teddy nodded. "We'll meet you in the cafeteria at 0730. And, Paris, don't sit in your room sulking all night."

* * *

**Dormitory Room of Cadet Andrew Kim**

"Hanson!" Andrew called happily as he embraced his friend. "How was your summer?"

"Pretty uneventful," Hanson said. "Except the part where I finally told Soraya I have feelings for her."

"You did?" Andrew asked with disbelief. "Come in. Sit down." He opened his door further, admitting Hanson, who walked in and stood in the middle of the room. Andrew sat on his bed and waited to hear what he'd missed all summer.

"Drew," Hanson began as a smile erupted across his face, "I can't believe I ever said I wasn't serious all those times I teased her about fantasizing about her. It's great. She's great."

"I'm happy for you," Andrew said honestly. "Where is she? I only heard from her three or four times all summer."

"She's in her room unpacking. She told me to get you. Since curfew doesn't begin until tomorrow, she wants to go out tonight. Do you feel up to it?"

Andrew nodded. "If there's one thing that changed about me this summer, it's that I am definitely up for anything."

"Great. Get out of your uniform, though. We're going to a nightclub in Cozumel, and Soraya says they'll only serve you synthehol if you're in uniform. Come to my room when you're ready." Hanson started to leave but paused in the doorway and turned back. "Hey, what about Miral?"

"Let's leave her out of this, okay?"

"Is everything all right with you two?"

"It's just fine," Andrew lied. "I'll be down to your room in a few minutes."

After Hanson left, Andrew looked through the roster to find Olnar's new room assignment and then decided to pay him a visit. Olnar had been such fun company on the starbase that he thought Soraya and Hanson would like him as an addition to their group excursion.

He'd left his room in such haste that the door was open. When he returned a few minutes later, he saw Miral Paris sitting on his bed. His good mood immediately faded.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Hi," he echoed. He sat down at his desk chair, keeping a fair distance between them. "I didn't think I'd see you. You didn't answer any of my messages."

"I know."

There was an awkward moment of silence before Andrew said, "Is there something you want? I was getting ready to go out."

Miral looked slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have intruded on you." She started for the door but hesitated before opening it again. "This was a mistake," she realized aloud. The revelation washed over along with a mixture of other emotions – sadness, embarrassment, discomfort – that she'd never before experienced in Andrew's presence. Her confidence shattered, she backed out the door quickly and pulled it closed behind her.

Andrew watched the door shut with a kind of detached wonder. Then he threw off his uniform and changed into pants and a tunic. He hurried to meet his friends, dismissing any thoughts of Miral Paris from his mind.

* * *

**Torres-Paris Family Residence**

Tom and B'Elanna sat at opposite ends of the sofa in silence. He was reworking the specifications on the Voyager twenty-fifth anniversary holoprogram – which was already behind schedule, thanks to the doctor's blossoming romance with a blonde soprano he'd recently met. B'Elanna claimed she was reading the latest perimeter defense report from the High Council, a small lie Tom graciously accepted as he had for the past twenty years.

Their domestic tranquility was shattered when the door to the house burst open, admitting Miral. She slammed it behind her and stormed past them in the direction of her old bedroom.

B'Elanna looked over at Tom with some curiosity. "What was that?"

"I think it was your daughter," he replied, sitting upright and tossing his padd on the coffee table. "And she looked upset." He turned to her. "I think it's a job for her mother."

B'Elanna shook her head firmly. "If she wanted to talk to us, she would have. No, she must have come home because she wanted to be alone."

"And she couldn't be alone in her dorm room?"

"Apparently not," B'Elanna said. "Which must mean the problem is in the dorm."

Their eyes met as they realized it at the same time. "Andrew."

Tom twisted to look over his shoulder toward the corridor, but he felt B'Elanna's warm hand on his knee. "Leave her alone," she cautioned.

He reluctantly picked up his padd and began working again. B'Elanna settled back into the couch, confident that Miral would come talk to them if and when she was ready.

* * *

Miral didn't go to her bedroom. She needed to talk to someone, and ordinarily that person would be Andrew. She couldn't talk to Teddy – Miral recognized that her own problems did not outweigh her friend's need for a reunion with her girlfriend. And she also couldn't talk to Soraya, who was physically unavailable at the moment but who, more importantly, she thought had decamped to Andrew's side. That left her one choice for a confidant.

"L'Naan," she declared as she entered her sister's room.

"Hi – what are you doing here?"

Miral flung herself on the bed. "Am I bothering you?"

"Since when do you care about that?"

_Ouch, little sister. Am I that self-absorbed?_ "I guess since now."

"All right," L'Naan said, setting aside the book she was reading and making her way to the bed. "It's nice to see you after three months."

"You, too, little sis," Miral admitted. "How's Grandpa T?"

L'Naan shrugged slightly. "He's okay. A doctor visits him every day, and he can't get much exercise. I spend most of my time reading him stories out loud or listening to him tell me about Mom when she was little. He misses you. You should send him a message."

Miral nodded. "I will, I promise." She impulsively hugged her sister. "I missed you."

"So did I. What's on your mind?"

"I cheated on Andrew." The confession felt good as it flew out of her mouth.

"I know," L'Naan said quietly. When Miral's eyes met hers with confusion, she explained, "The bartender. You wrote me about how it felt to flirt with him. I knew there was more to the story."

"Oh." Miral sat up. "He sent me a message yesterday that said he thought we needed to talk. Andrew, not the bartender."

"And?"

"And I didn't respond. So I went to his room tonight, and he was…he was so cold, L'Naan. I've never seen him like that. He wasn't hurt or angry, just completely…apathetic. That was the worst part."

L'Naan listened, observing Miral's facial expressions to guide her response. "And that made you upset."

Miral nodded. "If he was angry, we could have had a fight and fixed this. But instead, he's acting like he just doesn't even care if I exist. He said he was going out, so I left." She paused for a moment while she traced the pattern on L'Naan's bedspread. Then she looked up at L'Naan to confess the last part – the worst part. "I think it's over between us."

As much as she hated hearing that the relationship between her sister and dear friend might be finished, L'Naan suspected Miral didn't need gushing denial. She needed a strong shoulder to lean on. "And if it is?"

"I know it was my idea to stay on Quebec, and I know I should have talked with him about my decision. And it was really, really stupid of me to sleep with that bartender. It all made sense at the time. But, L'Naan, if we're over, I don't know how I'm going to handle the next year."

L'Naan slowly put her arms around her sister, and Miral accepted the hug. As they sat on the bed, hugging and rocking slightly, Miral did something she didn't do very often: she started to cry.

* * *

**Mexico, Cozumel, Disco des Diablos**

"What are you drinking?" Hanson shouted to Soraya over the loud music of the club. "That looks like orange juice. There'd better be some vodka in it!"

"It _is _orange juice," she shouted back. "I know what'll happen if you stay sober and I get drunk."

Their conversation was interrupted when Andrew reached his hand between them to grab his drink from the bar. As he took a sip of his whiskey and looked around the crowded nightclub, it occurred to him that this wasn't turning out to be as fun as he thought it would be.

"Where's your friend?" Soraya asked in his ear.

Andrew pointed out the dance floor, where Olnar had found an Andorian dance partner and seemed to be having the time of his life. _I wish I was having that much fun._

"Why don't you go dance with someone?" she suggested.

Andrew looked at her carefully. She had a double reason for suggesting it, and he knew it. As much as she wanted him to lighten up, she wanted to be alone with Hanson. If there was anything worse than being a third nacelle, it was being a third nacelle to a new couple when he'd just had his heart broken. He set his drink back down on the bar and moved into the crowd, determined to shrug off at least some of the gloominess that had overtaken him.

Summoning some of the charm and courage he'd had at Starbase 74, Andrew gazed around the crowd until he found a lanky brunette who happened to make eye contact. He smiled slightly and offered her his hand, which she accepted, and he led her onto the dance floor just as the music changed tempo.

_A slow dance. Great._ He plastered a smile on his face and took the brunette in his arms. She was faceless to him, but at least she was a pretty good dancer. It was slightly awkward to hold a strange woman in his arms, but her timing and rhythm soon put him at ease.

"What's your name?" he murmured in her ear.

"Felicia," she replied.

"That's a pretty name. I'm Andrew."

"You're a good dancer, Andrew."

"I was going to say the same thing to you," he admitted.

They lapsed into silence until the song ended. As the beat of the music quickened again, they looked at each other, unsure of the next move.

"Thanks for the dance," she said. "I'm going to go find my friends."

Andrew nodded and retreated to the corner where Soraya and Hanson were watching him.

"She's pretty," Soraya noted.

"Leave me alone."

"Why did you stop dancing with her?" Hanson asked. "She looked interested in you."

"Guys, I think this might have been a bad idea." He reached for his drink and quickly emptied the contents down his throat. Slamming the glass on the bar, he announced, "I'm going home."

"Oh, come on, Drew," Soraya urged. "Classes begin tomorrow. This is the last night of fun any of us is going to have for a long time."

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm not having fun," he remarked pointedly. He watched as Soraya and Hanson looked at each other with some concern.

"Drew, do you want to go somewhere and talk?" Soraya asked seriously.

Andrew shook his head. _Nice offer, but it's not you I need to talk to. Anyway, it's too late for talking._ "I'm fine. I'm just tired and want to be fresh tomorrow. I'll see you guys at breakfast, okay? And don't stay out too late." As he watched Hanson sizing up Soraya, he added, "And don't stay up too late once you're back in. Tell Olnar I said good-night."

* * *

**San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Dormitory Room of Cadet Andrew Kim**

As Andrew changed into his pajamas, his thoughts drifted toward his mother. She was always ready and willing to give advice about his personal life – the kind of advice his father just didn't seem to know how to give in a helpful way. He vaguely wondered if it was too late to call her. He checked the chronometer. 0030. She probably wasn't asleep, but if he summoned her at this hour, she'd assume it was something deeply important, life-or-death.

The cynic in him reared its ugly head and reminded him that there was no longer anything about his relationship with Miral Paris that was deeply important or life-or-death.

Andrew climbed into his bed and lay on his back. His hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. It hadn't occurred to him before that his whole Academy experience had been shaped by dating Miral. In fact his whole life had been shaped by her presence. He had absolutely no concept of what life was like without her.

_Well, this summer…_

_That was different, though. You thought it was temporary._

_What did you think was going to come of all this anyway? Did you really think you'd stay together until graduation? Did you think you'd stay together after?_

The part of him that wanted to answer yes was pushed aside by the cynic. In reality, the cynic told him, they'd make it past graduation until they realized that being light-years apart on different starships made it nearly impossible to maintain any semblance of a relationship. They'd end up saying things to each other they didn't really mean. Then they'd both find new people, and they'd break each other's hearts.

_Which already happened. See? You saved yourselves a year or two._

As he closed his eyes and tried to force sleep upon himself, Andrew couldn't help but hope that perhaps the cynic was wrong.

* * *

**Main Cafeteria**

"Miral," Isabelle asked, "did Teddy get into any trouble this summer that I should know about?"

Miral glanced across the table to Teddy and then stalled by taking a bite of her pancakes. "What did she tell you?"

"That she was a perfect angel. So I know she's lying."

Miral grinned. "She's telling the truth, Isabelle. I swear it."

Isabelle didn't look convinced. She turned to look at Teddy, who had an angelic smile on her face. "I'll bet you got drunk every chance you could."

"Teddy?" Miral asked with feigned shock. "Never. She was in bed every night by 2200." Her playful banter was interrupted as her eyes caught sight of her old friends entering the cafeteria together. She quickly looked down at her breakfast.

Teddy turned to look toward the entrance and saw the group sitting at a table. Three of them were laughing and talking loudly, clear unaware that Miral was across the room. The fourth, however, looked sorely out of place among their conviviality. _Andrew_, she surmised. _He's cute._

"He looks miserable, Paris," she told her friend.

Miral dared to look across the room and noticed the same thing. "I wonder what happened to his big night out with our friends?"

"It probably wasn't the same without you," Teddy suggested.

Her appetite suddenly gone, Miral set her fork down on her plate. "The convocation starts in twenty minutes. Let's go find seats."

Although none of them was eager to sit an empty auditorium for twenty minutes awaiting a boring convocation, Isabelle and Teddy politely rose with Miral and escorted her from the cafeteria.


	11. Chapter 11

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 11: Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Command, Main Reception Hall, 2399**

Cadets Miral Paris and Andrew Kim continued the charade of avoiding each other throughout the week. The opening convocation had been attended by so many that it was quite easy for Miral to lose him in the crowd, and she'd spent the subsequent days making up the spring exams that she had missed while on the Quebec Outpost during the plague. Once classes began, they found it was much easier to avoid each other than when they'd first become cadets. Neither needed to take general education requirements, and their majors rarely, if ever, intersected. It was only in the late afternoon hours at the end of their first week, during a reception for the first-class cadets held at Starfleet Command, that their paths collided.

Admiral Janeway had attended the reception every year since Icheb's final year at the Academy. She had attended then because she cared about him and was proud of his achievements, but she found that she liked watching the young cadets face the beginning of the end of their Academy tenure. The annual reception was also a great way to catch up on brass gossip. This year, however, two of her own were among those being toasted, and her sole reason for attending was to celebrate them.

She had been sorely out of touch with the Kims and Parises in the last few weeks, but she assumed she'd catch up at the reception. It was to her great surprise, therefore, that she saw Miral standing with a few friends on one side of the room while Andrew stood as far away as he could get from her. They were not oblivious; no, they were deliberately avoiding being in the vicinity of each other.

"It never ceases to amaze me how lovely you look in a dress uniform."

With a slight blush on her cheeks, she turned around and looked up at Tom Paris. "And it never ceases to amaze me what a flatterer you are – especially given that you're a married man."

He grinned. "I won't tell B'Elanna if you don't."

She would have opened her arms to embrace him had they not been in the middle of a stiff formal reception. "It's good to see you, Tom."

"You, too," he replied with a slight nod of his head that indicated he understood protocol as well as she did. He gestured with his drink. "Can I get you something?"

"Come to the bar with me," she proposed. Tom followed her through the reception hall to the bar and patiently waited while she ordered a glass of wine. With her drink in hand, she turned back to him. "I was just observing how far away your daughter has chosen to stand from a certain other cadet."

"You haven't heard then?" The look of confusion in her eyes was his answer. He grimaced slightly as he told her, "They broke up. Over the summer or a few days ago, depending upon who tells the story."

"Andrew asked me to pull some strings so he could get to Starbase 74 a few weeks early," she said, "but I assumed that once he and Miral were both back, they'd patch up whatever had happened between them."

Tom shook his head slightly. "It might be a permanent rift."

"Oh, Tom, no," she said emphatically. "They're so suited to each other. What happened?"

Tom wasn't entirely certain it was appropriate to gossip with his old captain about his daughter's love life, but she seemed so genuinely concerned for them that he decided to trust her. "I guess they both became involved with other people while they were off-campus," he explained.

Janeway shook her head resolutely. "I know you and Harry didn't like the idea of them dating in the first place, but, Tom, they're so compatible."

"You don't have to convince me, Admiral. I abandoned that fight a long time ago. I'm as surprised as you are. I've never seen Miral so dejected. She's…well, she's nothing like B'Elanna anymore." He couldn't quite put the words together, but he trusted that the admiral would understand the comparison.

She did, and she nodded in understanding. "She'll get some of that old fire back soon. She just needs time to heal."

"You should go talk to Andrew," Tom suggested. "I know he's looking forward to seeing you."

Janeway patted his arm affectionately before heading in the cadet's direction.

Tom surveyed the room for a moment. He prided himself on understanding the dynamics involved in throwing a good party, and the annual fall reception was nothing like a good party. Mixing faculty and students, admirals and cadets, in the extremely formal environment of Starfleet Command just didn't make for a pleasant atmosphere. Like every previous reception he'd attended, the cadets were huddled in the corner, avoiding eye contact with the few brass they knew, and the admirals ended up talking to each other philosophically about Federation principles. Tom liked the parties at the Klingon embassy a lot better.

He didn't know many of the current crop of cadets. His eyes fell upon those few who were on his flight squad – who, he noted, were politely trying to steer clear of him. He knew Miral and Andrew, and their friends, but he suspected they didn't want to talk to him either. And the admiral.

"Son," his father called, approaching from behind.

Tom turned around to face the one other person he should have counted on seeing. In spite of his advanced years, Admiral Owen Paris still put on a dress uniform and showed up at every Starfleet function he could. The man lived for the career.

"Hi, Dad."

"Where's my granddaughter?"

"She's over there, avoiding me," he said, gesturing with his glass.

"Get her for me. I want to talk to her."

"Sure." Tom set his empty glass on the bar and headed across the room to find Miral.

At the same time, Admiral Janeway interrupted a group of four cadets, whose laughter immediately ended once they noticed her presence. She put a hand on Andrew's shoulder as she urged them, "As you were, Cadets. This is a party, after all."

"Admiral, it's nice to see you," Andrew greeted her. "Do you know all of my friends? This is Soraya and Hanson – I think you've met them before – and this is Olnar."

"Hello," she said politely to the group. She returned her attention to Andrew. "I'd like to hear what you've been doing all summer."

It was amazing how skilled she was at making an order seem like friendly curiosity. As she led him away from his friends, Andrew admired her technique. He began by thanking her for his Starbase 74 assignment and then told her about his exploits – the on-duty ones, anyway – as they casually made their way back to where Tom had been standing.

When they reached the bar, Janeway's rapt attention in Andrew was diverted by the sight of the senior Paris.

"Hello, sir," she said warmly as he took her hands.

"Kathryn, you're looking as lovely as always," he complimented, demonstrating where Tom had acquired his charm. He looked at the cadet on her heels. "Andrew. It's been a long time since I've seen you. How are you?"

"Just fine, sir," Andrew said with noticeable discomfort.

Tom arrived on the scene with Miral in tow, and he and Janeway realized the awkward nature of the reunion too late. Miral, ignoring Andrew, gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek. Janeway, trying to save face, explained that she'd pulled Andrew from his friends, who were probably eager to get him back.

"Nonsense," Admiral Paris said. "I want to talk to these two about their summer postings." His eyes twinkled slightly. "I know it's supposed to be your training experience, but I doubt much has changed since I was a cadet. Tell me what you did in your off-duty time."

Miral and Andrew looked at each other uncomfortably. Tom winced.

When at last they were free from the clutches of their family, Andrew and Miral found themselves with no one left to talk to but each other. It was the moment of truth.

"That was weird," Miral said, trying to defuse the situation.

Andrew nodded slowly, looking down at his freshly shined boots.

"Look, Andrew…"

"Do you – I mean, we can go somewhere and talk, if you want," he suggested, still avoiding eye contact.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked carefully. Part of her wanted to scream, to remind him that the last time she'd tried to talk to him, he was heartless. But something else took hold of her, something that told her that if she wanted to make any progress with him, that wasn't the way.

Andrew finally looked up at her. "I guess I do. I guess I want some answers."

It felt like a death blow from a _bat'leth_, but Miral supposed she deserved it. "You want to come to my room?"

"No, we should go somewhere neutral."

_Fair enough._ "How about the rose garden?"

Andrew nodded and followed her out of the reception hall. They were silent the entire walk across campus.

* * *

**Rose Garden**

Miral settled on the grass with her legs tucked underneath her. She had suggested the garden only because it was the first place that came to mind, but now as she looked around, she realized it was quite a romantic place, especially on a crisp fall day at dusk.

Andrew sat a respectable distance from her in the grass with his legs crossed. He leaned his elbows on his knees and faced away from her, waiting for her to start the difficult conversation.

"I met someone this summer," she began quietly, her eyes fixed on him, watching for his reaction.

For some reason he didn't fully understand, Andrew was unmoved. "So did I," he told her. "When you wouldn't talk to me, I assumed you had moved on."

"I – I guess I did."

Andrew shrugged slightly. "Then I guess we're even."

Miral plucked a blade of grass, trying to figure out what to say next. It was ridiculous, she knew, to be sitting with the person she'd shared all of her secrets with and not know how to have a simple conversation with him. They'd never been at a loss for how to communicate before. This was new territory, and she felt drained at the effort of trying to navigate it.

As it turned out, she didn't have to. Andrew broke the silence first. "What do you want, Miral?"

Miral scarcely recognized the strong-willed person sitting a meter away from her. When she'd left, Andrew had been the same Andrew she'd always known: sensitive, attentive, thoughtful, brooding. The only person not related to her who would put up with her bad moods. She was the one who was outspoken and daring, able to hurt just by saying something off the cuff. It occurred to her that they'd traded positions over the summer.

"What do _you_ want?" she asked, turning to him. She searched his eyes for some hint as to what he was thinking and feeling.

Andrew looked away from her. "What do you mean, what do I want?"

"You sent me a message that said you wanted to talk!" she reminded him with exasperation.

"And you never replied!"

"What was I supposed to say?"

"Something. Anything. You were really cruel to me, Miral."

Miral stood up. "Well, I'm sorry. I guess now you're getting even."

"Don't leave again," he said more quietly. "Sit down."

She obeyed.

Andrew sighed. He had anticipated this moment for the last month. He'd practiced – telling her how he'd rationalized cheating on her and explaining that her silence had made him abandoned – and he'd planned what she would say in return and how they'd forgive each other and make up. None of it was going according to that plan.

Another long, awkward moment of silence passed.

Finally Andrew spoke. "You broke my heart."

Miral looked up at him in surprise. Those were not the words she thought she'd hear. She realized there were two options: one was to scream at him how stupid he sounded and to ask how he'd managed to sleep with someone else with a broken heart, and the other was to apologize. She was reminded of something her father had said in the logs he recorded for her when she first started the Academy.

_  
Personal Log of Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris, Stardate 64134.5_

_Your mother and I just had another fight, and I know you were awake to hear us. Munchkin, when you fight with people you love – and you will, no matter how much you don't want to – just remember that there's always one moment when you can end it or keep fighting. It doesn't matter in the long run who's right and who's wrong, you'll learn that as you get older. It really only matters that you forgive each other for having the argument and that you're able to make up. When you see that moment, you'll be tempted to keep the fight going, to get off one more blow. You've got both me and your mother to blame for that quality. But I've worked hard over the years to learn not to do that, and I hope you'll learn it, too. Be the one who ends the fight. I promise you'll never look back and regret it._

"Andrew, I'm so sorry," she said suddenly. "I'm really, really sorry. I was angry that you didn't want me to go to Quebec, and then the longer I was away, the angrier I became."

"Why were you so angry with me?" he wanted to know, his voice showing his hurt.

"I don't know," she tried feebly to explain. "You always encouraged me to do what I wanted, and this one occasion that felt really important, you didn't. And I realized that our time here is flying by, and I thought I needed to go have an adventure before I decided if I was right about wanting to spend the rest of my life with you."

"What?"

"The guy – the bartender – he didn't mean anything to me at all," she continued. "I was drunk, and I just wanted to know what it was like to have sex with someone else. I've only ever been with you, and I didn't think I could marry you without having experienced anything else at least once."

"Miral," he said a little firmly to get her attention. "Did you say you wanted to marry me?"

"I…"

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calculate his next move. He was still angry and hurt, and the cynic kept telling him to say something cruel, to throw up another obstacle and run away. But she said she wanted to marry him. They'd never discussed marriage. They'd discussed the hypothetical situation of attempting to continue their relationship while on different assignments, but they had never, ever discussed marriage. Or children. Or any kind of solid future together. He wasn't sure entirely certain what his response to the idea was, but he knew he was even more frustrated at her for having had the entire debate in her head without allowing him a chance to participate in it.

Since the sun had set and their conversation seemed nowhere near complete, Andrew decided to postpone his reaction. Instead, he rose and dusted off his pants and then offered her a hand. "We should go back inside. We can keep talking in my room."

Miral considered the offer an indication that he wasn't about to toss her off the Golden Gate Bridge. She accepted his hand and rose to her feet.

* * *

**Dormitory Room of Cadet Andrew Kim**

They didn't speak as they headed toward the dorm, and they didn't speak once they entered Andrew's room. Miral perched tentatively on the chair at Andrew's desk, and Andrew sat on the far edge of his bed. He reached instinctively for his oboe and brought it to his lips.

Miral let him play for a minute. She had forgotten what it sounded like, and as she listened, the music brought back great memories for her. Something dawned on her: if she was uncertain about Andrew's feelings for her, she now had an answer.

"You're playing the oboe," she stated.

"So?"

"You only do that when you're sad."

"Sometimes I do it when I'm bored," he corrected, setting the instrument down.

Miral shook her head. "No, you're sad," she said with conviction.

Andrew sighed. "Of course I'm sad. You were the love of my life and my best friend, and you left me."

"Were?" she dared to ask, feeling some of her inner resolve returning.

"Are," he corrected quietly.

"How can you know that? We're only twenty-one."

"If I wasn't sure before," he said deliberately, "I figured it out on the starbase."

She made her way from the desk chair to the bed and sat on the bed, a little too far away from him. "Andrew, I'm so sorry for everything that's happened. I can't imagine spending this year without you." As she awaited his response, she began tracing circles on the blanket with one finger.

He lifted her finger off the blanket and squeezed his around it. With his other hand, he gently nudged her chin up so that she looked him in the eye. "Did you really say you wanted to marry me?"

She nodded slowly.

Andrew moved closer to her on the bed. "I'm so sorry I cheated on you," he said, embracing her. "It didn't mean anything to me either. It was just fun to flirt and try to be with someone else, but it just made me miss you more."

"Really?" she asked over his shoulder. "You seem so much more confident, so sure of yourself."

"I guess I am," he admitted. "Maybe it was good to have a little time apart. Maybe you were right about living a little."

Miral pulled back so she could look into his face but kept her arms loosely around him. "I missed you," she said in a breathy voice. "I really missed you."

Andrew nodded slowly. "I missed you, too." He leaned forward very slowly and placed a tender kiss on her pink lips. "How could you map out a whole future for us without ever talking to me about it?"

"I don't know," she said honestly.

"Were you scared I didn't feel the same way?"

"No," she said, "I think I assumed you had the same plan in your mind." She looked at him carefully. "Do you?"

Although he'd never consciously considered it before, Andrew knew the answer to her question without a doubt. "Yes," he said with conviction. He no longer regretted that she'd gone away for the summer or that she'd experimented with someone else. He didn't regret that he'd done it either. It had all, he understood, made him all the more confident in the decision he was making. Miral Paris was no longer just a childhood infatuation; she was his future.

Miral looked back into his brown eyes and, for the first time, felt ready to make the very mature decision of choosing a mate for life. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you," she repeated.

"You said that already," he reminded her in a soft voice. He touched the strands of her hair closest to her face, then pushed its length behind her shoulder. "You grew out your hair."

"Do you like it?"

"It looks beautiful."

Miral smiled, feeling more of her old self returning. "You know, you never said what you wanted to do with the rest of your life."

Andrew brought his eyes away from her hair and into hers. "What do you think I want?" he teased.

"I'm not making any predictions. Tell me." Her voice would brook no argument.

"The summer hasn't changed your bossiness, I see," he said. It felt good to be falling back into their old routine. He smiled at her as he traced her lips with one finger. "I had a lot of fun this summer," he admitted. "I learned how to stand on my own, how to make friends, how to talk to people I didn't know. It was really good for me. I don't want to lose that."

"Do you think you will if you stay with me?"

"No." He kissed her again, this time with a quick brush of his tongue inside her mouth. It sent electricity charging through him. "I just wanted you to know that I'm making an informed decision."

"And that is…?" she prompted.

"That I want to be with you," he said finally, scooting closer.

Miral did the same, until their bodies were touching. Their embrace tightened, and Andrew leaned forward to kiss her again, this time longer and more passionately.

The beeping of his computer pulled their attention off their kissing, and Andrew reluctantly broke away from her. He leaned across the bed to tap the monitor. "It's a message from Soraya. They're going out tonight and want to know if I want to join them." He looked back at her. "I think she and Hanson saw us leave the reception together. Well, if they stopped looking at each other long enough to realize there was a world around them."

"Soraya and Hanson?" Miral asked with disbelief.

Andrew nodded. "It happened some time this summer, but they're cagey on the details."

"I can't believe it!"

"You should see them together. It's sickening."

"I got the feeling _they_ didn't want to see _me_," she admitted to him.

Andrew turned his attention away from the computer. "I think they're just not sure how to be stuck in the middle. They still love you. I can tell by the way they seem disappointed every time it's the three of us."

"But I've seen you with another person – a Bolian."

"Olnar," he explained. "He was my roommate this summer. You can meet him, too. Should I tell them we'll have breakfast with them tomorrow?"

"We should go out with them," Miral suggested.

"Really? Don't you want to stay in?" He couldn't quite believe what she was saying. It seemed they had a long, long way to go to repairing the rift between them, and the passion she had been giving off before the computer interrupted was hard to ignore. Staying in seemed infinitely more important, whether they were making love or talking.

"We have all night," she said, as if reading his mind. "I want to see what Soraya and Hanson are like together, and I want to see this newfound confidence of yours in action."

"Okay," he gave in. "I'll tell them we'll meet in Soraya's room in ten minutes."

"Do you think she'll mind if I invite two more people?"

"You know Soraya's rule."

"The more, the merrier. Right."

* * *

**Mexico, Cozumel, Disco des Diablos**

"Come on, Paris, one for the good old days!" Teddy shouted over the music as she passed around shots of tequila.

Miral took one of the small glasses from her but looked at it dubiously. "I think I got drunk enough on Quebec Two."

Isabelle shook her head firmly. "No, you didn't, remember?" she teased. "You two were perfect angels. Down the hatch." She tossed the shot skillfully down her throat as Teddy watched lustfully.

Miral looked at Andrew, who nodded his encouragement. They tossed back their own shots.

"You know what they say," Teddy continued as she watched Olnar try to drink his tequila. "When in Mexico…"

Andrew reached his hand toward Miral, luring her to the dance floor. She handed her empty shot glass to Hanson and followed.

"They seem like their old selves again!" Soraya shouted in his ear.

Hanson put a hand over his ear protectively with a wince. "I'm glad," he agreed. He turned to look at her. "Do you want to dance?" She nodded and set her own empty glass down on the bar. He put his and Miral's next to hers and followed her to the dance floor.

When the loud music finally gave way to something a little quieter, the two couples drifted back to the bar. Just as he had the last time they were at the club, Olnar was still dancing with a stranger, but Isabelle and Teddy joined them.

_They make such a cute pair_, Miral thought as Teddy wrapped her arms around Isabelle's waist from behind. She reached for her glass of mango nectar and raised it. "I want to make a toast," she declared. "This is our last year at the Academy – our last, glorious year – and then who knows what will happen next? I think we should drink to the future."

"Hear, hear," Hanson said, clinking his glass with hers. He winked at Soraya as their glasses clinked next.

"Okay," Andrew said finally, thunking his margarita down on the bar. "What is it with you two? Are you going to tell us what happened or not?"

Soraya and Hanson exchanged a look, their happiness barely masked.

"They're in love, Andrew," Teddy said. "Isn't it obvious?"

"We all knew that a long time ago," Miral explained. "What I want to know is which of you finally admitted it first?"

They pointed at each other at the same time and laughed. Miral and Andrew groaned in frustration.

"Isabelle," Soraya asked, "which of you started your relationship?"

"What do you think?" Teddy asked.

"Well, Isabelle seems nice and normal," Miral joked, "and I lived with you, so I know how ruthless you can be when you want something."

Teddy grinned. "So I'm the preying mantis?"

Isabelle didn't flinch. She turned her head over her shoulder and said, "I'll bet you told her some great lies about us."

"Teddy?" Miral asked with feigned shock. "Never. She only ever spoke of you with utter reverence."

Andrew put his hand on the small of Miral's back without thinking. He enjoyed watching her joke around with friends, and it felt good to reestablish some of the ground they'd lost in the past few months. He was glad they hadn't decided to stay in all night.

Miral put down her orange juice again and reached behind her for his hand. She turned into his embrace, looking into his eyes with a knowing smile. "It's getting late, isn't it, Cadet?"

Andrew was having fun, and he could tell she was, too. He wasn't entirely certain what their first intimate experience would be like after their separation, so he wasn't feeling quite as aroused as she seemed to be. But if she was ready to go back to the dormitory to be alone, he wasn't going to say no to her.

"It's not late at all," Soraya scolded. "This is our first weekend back together. We have to stay up all night."

"Sorry," Andrew told her without a trace of apology, "but I have an oral exam to study for."

Hanson and Soraya groaned. Miral rolled her eyes. "Okay, Drew, now I know you're drunk." She patted his chest condescendingly. "You've never been good at subtlety."

"We should get back, too," Isabelle suggested to Teddy. Teddy nodded.

Soraya sighed in frustration and looked at Hanson. A slight raise of the eyebrows from him, and she was ready to move the party back to her room.

"Okay," she conceded. "Let's catch the next transport."

"What about Olnar?" Miral asked, nodding to him on the dance floor.

"Trust me," Andrew said emphatically. "He's fine. Tomorrow he'll talk your ear off about everything you missed." He raised his glass to his lips and gulped the remainder of the contents at once. "Let's go."

* * *

**San Francisco, Dormitory Room of Cadet Andrew Kim**

Andrew smiled sleepily as he stroked Miral's hair with one hand. It had been a little tentative at first, as if they were both remembering how each other's bodies worked and what they responded to, but it had been good and satisfying in the end. For him the best part, though, was that they were now lying together, sharing the intimacy that could only come after making love.

In the space of that intimacy, Miral was more willing to talk about everything she'd experienced, from working at the triage center to her nightly escapades around the outpost with Teddy. She'd revealed some of the frustrations she'd felt at him. All the things she had confessed that summer to Teddy were suddenly able to come out, and she was explaining her feelings to him with a kind of clarity and gentleness that she was certain she couldn't have managed three months earlier.

Andrew listened attentively, responding when he knew she wanted him to and keeping quiet otherwise. Some of her hostility before leaving for the outpost began to make sense to him, and he began to understand just how clingy he had seemed to her. He also never before realized how the previously capricious Miral had turned into someone who was meticulously planning her future. Although he was planning for his career, he hadn't given much conscious thought to his future with her – he just assumed it would fall into place. She, on the other hand, had been trying to figure out what it would mean to marry someone she'd known her whole life and how marriage and children would fit into the kind of assignments they'd likely take. That was a heavy discussion to be having alone, and Andrew regretted that he hadn't broached the subject with her himself.

"I know I want to have children," she was saying now with her head buried in his chest. Looking him in the eye might have been more than she could manage with such a frank discussion, and he was content to let her off the hook, as long as they kept talking. "I don't see anything wrong with officers having children. I liked being on the Enterprise. I don't remember being on the starbase, but I probably liked that, too."

"Sometimes I wished my dad had taken an assignment on a ship," he admitted. "I wanted to travel through space. You always had such great stories to tell."

"And if we ever have children?"

"It's dangerous," he said, "but that's part of the trade-off, I suppose. You and L'Naan got to see and do things I didn't, experience the galaxy. I think I'd like to have children on a ship."

"What about your career, though?"

"What about yours?"

She lifted her head so that her chin was resting on his chest. "I don't think I ever want to be a captain," she said honestly. "But I can imagine being a commander in charge of my own lab."

He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Lab directors can certainly have children."

"Do you want to be a captain?"

Andrew nodded. "I think so. But you know what I realized at the starbase? What really matters is who you serve with. Olnar and I joined a poker game with four ensigns. They really liked each other and respected their commanding officer, and they had a good life. They loved their jobs. So I guess I don't care what my rank is or what I'm doing as long as I have a good post with people I like and respect."

"In that case I'll be the career officer, and you'll be the dad." He shook her a little jokingly as she laughed. "Actually, that was something my mom said to me a long time ago – that the best officers were the ones who understood the importance of the people with whom they served."

"In that case, I'll make captain by the time I'm thirty."

"Drew, if you want to be a captain, it means you have to devote all your energy to your career."

He kissed her head. "And you think that means I can't be with you and have a family? What about Captain Tuvok?"

"He's Vulcan! They only require sex every seven years. That is just not an interval I can live with."

"There are plenty of human captains with families," he reminded her. "Anyway, all this perfect planning of yours – it's not like you. You never agonize over decisions. You look without leaping."

"I know," Miral said, "but I've never had to make such serious decisions about my life before."

"There's no guarantee about anything in life, Miral." He stroked her hair as he spoke softly. "Why don't we just say that we want to be together, and we want to be married when the time is right, and have children when the time is right, and leave the rest of the details to be filled in as things unfold? Can you live with that?" He felt her nod against him, and they lapsed into a peaceful silence.

After a moment, she lifted her head to look him in the eye. "Does it feel…weird to be with me, knowing that I've been with someone else?"

He frowned slightly as he considered the question. "I guess not. You – you did things we didn't used to do. That part was weird."

"So did you," she told him quietly. "I guess we both learned a little from our conquests."

"But this is nice," he said equally quietly. He found her hand and laced his fingers into hers. "Holding you like this feels just right."

Miral slid up his chest so she could kiss him. "Yeah," she agreed. "It does."


	12. Chapter 12

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 12: Earth, San Francisco, Resto Presidio, 2400**

"So, son," Harry said with great pride, "in one month, you graduate."

"I can't believe how fast four years went," Andrew admitted. "But they also seem like the longest four years of my entire life."

Harry smiled and took a pause to eat a bite of his lunch. He'd been pleased to see the changes in Andrew over the course of four years of lunching together. The first one had been the day Harry realized Andrew was involved with Miral Paris. Since then, the relationship had continued, but Andrew was no longer a nervous wreck. He was also no longer a confused cadet. Harry recognized that his son had become a mature adult, a groomed (if still green) first-class, ready to take on the challenges that Starfleet – and life – could throw at him. Harry was proud indeed.

"Have you gotten your assignment yet?"

"Next week, I think," Andrew told him. "Do you think they'll keep me from that post at headquarters because you're there?"

"I don't know, Drew," he said. "Sometimes families end up at the same posts. I guess it depends on who's giving out the assignments that day." He neglected to mention that a list of potentials was currently sitting on his desk – a list that included Andrew – a list he was, as a Starfleet commander, expected to evaluate objectively. "What about Miral?"

Andrew looked up at the blue sky above his father's head. It was April, and the clouds seemed almost too perfect. He sighed. "She wants a deep-space mission, but I've been trying to talk her into staying on Earth. Or at least this sector. But she really wants to make first contact. It's so funny. I'm the one who always said I wanted to be a captain, but I applied for a planet-bound posting. She doesn't care about moving up the ranks, but her assignment could be much more politically prudent. I just wish there was some way we could both get what we want and still be near each other."

It occurred to Harry that, Voyager's sidestep into the Delta Quadrant aside, he was in a similar position when he was Andrew's age. He realized he and Libby had never really talked to Andrew about that, only about how he had gotten his first choice for an assignment immediately upon graduating – and ended up on history's longest detour to the rank of lieutenant junior grade.

"Drew, you know, I was involved with your mother when I was finishing the Academy," Harry told him.

"What?" Andrew asked with surprise.

"Yes," Harry reiterated. "We didn't meet when Voyager returned. We'd already known each other for years and dated when Voyager got lost."

"Dad, you never told me this!"

"I know, I can't believe I didn't think of it myself." Harry shook his head. "For the first two years on Voyager, it was all I could do to stop thinking about her. We didn't know if our families knew we were alive or not, or if they would wait for us or move on. So the best thing seemed to be moving on with our own lives." Harry grinned as he remembered his hapless Delta Quadrant encounters. "Tom was always trying to set me up, but I had a track record for picking the entirely wrong people."

"Like whom?"

Harry looked at him, wondering just how much about his love life he really wanted to tell his son. "First, there was a hologram."

"Oh, Dad."

"Oh, nothing. Everyone falls in love with a hologram at some point. Only in my case, the hologram fell in love with someone else. I couldn't even keep a series of subroutines interested in me!" Harry took pleasure in hearing Andrew laugh at him and decided not to complicate the plotline by explaining that she was really a lonely alien. "After that it was an ex-Borg."

"Seven of Nine?"

"Right."

"Wasn't she with Chakotay?"

"Yes, years later."

"Before Chakotay and Admiral Janeway started living together."

"Clearly Chakotay was not with Seven when he started a relationship with the admiral," Harry said seriously. Loyalty to Admiral Janeway was still something to be handled with sobriety. He also did not like the idea of his son connecting the dots as though Voyager had been a Risan house of orgy.

"Who else, Dad?" Andrew asked, spooning up some of his plomeek soup. He slurped it loudly.

Harry tried not to roll his eyes, convinced that Andrew had had perfect table manners before he entered the Academy. "After Seven? Uh, it was either the xenophobic alien or the wrong twin. I can't remember the order. Maybe the planet of killer brides. Tom used to have fun reciting the list of Harry's bad loves."

"They all sound like interesting stories."

"I guess."

"Did you think Mom would wait for you?" Andrew asked, suddenly serious.

"No," Harry admitted. "And I didn't want her to. It's hard to miss someone every day, especially if you don't know whether or not he's alive. It's better to move on with your life."

Andrew seemed to consider this for a second. "But she did wait for you."

"No, she didn't," Harry insisted. "And I didn't wait for her. We both moved on, became involved with other people, forgot about each other. When Voyager got back to the Alpha Quadrant, we were both single, and we gravitated back to each other." Andrew was hanging on to his every word. "You know why? Because we were the real deal, and we were right for each other. But we needed to have those other experiences to grow first. Otherwise, even though we were engaged, we wouldn't have been ready. We didn't get back together when Voyager came home; we had to fall in love all over again."

"So if you hadn't gotten lost in the Delta Quadrant…?"

"I don't think it would have worked out," Harry said seriously. "We were too young and inexperienced at twenty-two."

Andrew frowned. He didn't like this new piece of information one bit.

* * *

**Starfleet Academy**

"Drew!" Miral called, running to catch up with him as he walked back to the dormitories. She threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I got the assignment on the Galileo!"

Andrew stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. "Are you serious? Congratulations!" He embraced her tightly. "I'm so proud of you."

"I just can't believe it." Miral was bubbling over with excitement, her face glowing and a smile stretching wide across her face. Andrew didn't think he'd ever seen her so happy. He loved it. He took her fiercely in his arms again and pressed her to him.

"Cadets," a passing officer greeted them in a tone that indicated disapproval of their public display.

Andrew didn't care. He held onto Miral as long as she would allow.

"What about you? Did you get your orders yet?" Miral took his hand, and they started to walk again.

Andrew shook his head. "Not yet. But, Miral, the Galileo is headed to Sector 047. There's no assignment I could possibly get that will be anywhere near you."

"Don't drink the blood of your ancestors before they're dead," she said.

"Huh?"

Miral grinned. "Don't give up yet. You haven't gotten your post yet. You have plenty of time to be pessimistic."

"The blood of your ancestors…?"

"I thought I'd do a little studying up on culture," Miral said, "since my second Rite of Ascension is coming up."

"And you're going through with it?" He wondered if she would ever stop surprising him.

"I guess so," Miral said. "I think it'll make my dad happy. And it couldn't hurt my mom's career. She can invite Worf and the other old Klingon windbags, and they'll probably like her a lot more once they see that her family preserves tradition and honor."

Andrew nodded, appreciating how considerate she could be sometimes. He was aware that some people mistook her effervescence for shallowness, but what he loved about her was her concern for others. She wasn't shallow in the least. "And what will they think of your human boyfriend?"

Miral shrugged. "About as much as they think of my human dad, I guess." She stepped into the doorway of the building. "Who cares? In one month I'll be in the science lab of the Galileo and none of this will matter anyway."

Andrew tried not to take her words personally as he followed her inside.

* * *

**Dormitory Room of Cadet Miral Paris**

"Are you fighting again?" L'Naan said, with an annoyed groan. "Honestly, Miral, what is wrong with you?"

"I don't know, L'Naan," Miral said earnestly. "One minute I was on the high of a lifetime, and the next Andrew turned into this mush who didn't even want to have dinner with me. He can be a total dud sometimes."

"Then why are you still dating him?" L'Naan asked. She took a piece of candy from the package she'd brought and passed a piece to Miral. With her mouth full, she continued, "You tell me once a week about something stupid that happens between you. I don't understand why you're still together. It's been four years of fights and you being disgusted at him for being too sensitive. You already broke up once. Why do you keep doing this?" L'Naan already knew the answer to that question, but she also knew Miral responded best to tough love.

Miral chewed the cherry-flavored candy contemplatively. "Because I love the big idiot. I absolutely love him, and I think we're going to end up getting married over the summer."

"Some kind of love," L'Naan said, flopping backwards onto her sister's bed. She stared up at the ceiling. "You have a loose panel."

Miral craned her neck up to look at it. "Oh, well."

"You should put in a maintenance request. Or have an engineering student come over to fix it."

"L'Naan, it's a loose panel. I'm graduating in two weeks. It's fine."

"When you're on the Galileo, are you going to avoid anything having to do with engineering as well?" L'Naan asked pointedly. "Because if you do, I don't think you'll have a very good time there. It is a _ship_, after all."

Miral groaned. Sometimes L'Naan was more annoyingly persistent than Andrew in demonstrating how wrong she was. Worse, sometimes L'Naan was downright omniscient. On those occasions, Miral not only felt wrong, she felt sheepish. But she'd learned over the years that if she could set aside her pride long enough to heed her little sister's advice, it usually resulted in something positive. L'Naan was rarely wrong in her counsel.

Still, Miral's pride had its limits. "Little sister," she said, deliberately choosing a diminutive nickname, "do _not_ psychoanalyze my fear of engineering as something having to do with my relationship with Mom."

"I didn't say anything of the sort," L'Naan reminded her with a glorious smile. "I didn't have to." She sat up. "Now, about Andrew?"

"He's upset that we're going to be on posts so far away from each other," Miral admitted to herself, popping another piece of candy into her mouth. "I was really happy when I found out about the Galileo, and he was hurt that I was so excited. He said I was being insensitive – that I hadn't considered what it meant for our relationship. Ironic, considering that nine months ago, I was doing nothing but thinking about our relationship. He's the one who encouraged me to let things unfold on their own."

L'Naan took another piece of candy as well. "So what are you going to do about it? Maybe you should make some kind of plan."

"Like what?" Miral and Andrew had a very concrete plan; they just hadn't shared it with anyone. She wondered if L'Naan, with her precocious wisdom, would lay out the same strategy they had.

"I don't know. I'm not in Starfleet."

"How about it, little sis? Are you going to be walking these grounds next fall?"

"Nope," L'Naan said with a smile. "I'll be at the Daystrom Institute for Artificial Intelligence on Galor IV and loving every minute of it."

"Grandpa's going to be upset that you're not carrying on the family tradition."

"Grandpa is about a hundred years old, and he's not in charge of me."

"I see." Miral lay back on the bed and put an arm across her eyes. "Oh, L'Naan, should I turn down the Galileo?"

L'Naan lay back beside her and took her sister's arm off her face. She held Miral's hand in her own as she looked over at her. "Don't turn down the assignment if it's really what you want. You'll regret it later."

* * *

**Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence**

"I'm more than happy to conspire with you," Kathryn Janeway said, "but let's be clear about something. The three of you trying to call this an official mission is absurd." She filled their glasses with lemonade and sat down opposite her three former officers.

"Did somebody organize a reunion and forget to tell me?" Chakotay asked as he came in the back door with his arms full of firewood. He wiped his feet on the mat and leaned down to kiss the admiral. Then he piled the logs near the fireplace, dusted off his hands, and joined them at the table. "Tom, B'Elanna, Harry."

"Hi," B'Elanna explained, "we're here about the kids."

"Is something wrong?" he asked with concern. "I just talked to Andrew yesterday."

"Did he say anything about Miral?" Harry asked.

"Nothing particularly interesting," Chakotay reported. "He sure seems in love." Three faces looked at him crisply, simultaneously. "Oh, I see." He looked at Kathryn for help.

She nodded. "They want me to arrange for them to have separate postings."

"You're not going to?"

She shook her head no, her mouth curled up on one side. "But I'm happy to talk to them."

"What are you three so afraid of?" Chakotay asked. "I would have thought you'd be happy. They've been together for – what? – four years now?"

"Andrew says he wants to be a captain. He needs to focus on his career," Harry said soberly.

"Miral is too young to get married," Tom added.

"It's lunacy to get married at twenty-one," B'Elanna agreed.

"I agree this whole thing is premature," Kathryn began, but Chakotay cut her off.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, marriage?"

"They told us last night that they got engaged," B'Elanna told him.

"Okay, that's a new development." Chakotay looked at Kathryn again for help.

She patted his arm lovingly. "Why don't you get dinner started?" She was in essence telling him that he wasn't helping any, and he knew it.

"I notice Libby's not here," he said, ignoring her. "What does she think about all this?"

"She thinks it's great," Harry reported gloomily. "She told me coming to talk to the admiral was one of the stupidest things I'd ever done."

Chakotay tried not to smirk. "And you didn't listen to her?"

"Chakotay," Kathryn said a bit more insistently, "it's time to make dinner."

"Are you banishing me?" She nodded with a beatific smile. "Okay then." He rose. "Are you three staying?"

"What are you having?" B'Elanna asked curiously.

"How can you even think of eating at a time like this?" Tom asked her.

She turned to him and shrugged innocently. "I have two stomachs. They're hungry."

* * *

**Jupiter Station, Holodeck, St. Andrew's, Eleventh Hole**

"Doc, the whole thing reads like one of those soap operas L'Naan discovered in the television index."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he leaned down to place his ball on the tee.

"A show with continuous, connected narratives, usually centered on couplings," Tom explained. "Once you begin watching, you can't stop because the story never ends – and usually the story is about marriages or adultery or revenging lost love."

"Certainly sounds like opera," the Doctor said. He became silent as he shuffled his feet into position. Then he drew the club back and brought it swiftly downward to connect with the ball with a satisfying _thwop_ sound. He watched the ball sail down the fairway. "Well, Miral is my goddaughter, so perhaps I'd better have a talk with her."

Tom leaned on his golf club. "Uh, no, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I have updated my adolescent parenting subroutines since the last time I spoke to her about personal issues."

Tom whistled slightly as he recalled the day Miral had confided in B'Elanna, who in turn relayed all to Tom, that the Doctor had given her a painfully awkward – and completely unsolicited – lecture on menstruation. "Miral's not really an adolescent, Doc. B'Elanna keeps telling me that we have to accept the fact that she's an adult." He positioned himself to tee off.

"Has she engaged in sexual intercourse yet?"

Tom whiffed in surprise at the question. He leaned on his club and rubbed his chin. "Doc, you've been active for nearly thirty years now, and you haven't figured out that fathers are better off not contemplating their daughters' sex lives?" He positioned himself to tee off again, and this time the Doctor wisely kept quiet.

* * *

**Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters Gymnasium**

A series of grunts and groans echoed through the basketball court. No longer healthy young men, old friends Tom and Harry were competing to the death, whether they had intended to or not.

"Nice shot," Harry taunted after Tom lobbed the ball too hard, and it bounced off the backboard and flew across the court. Tom retrieved the ball and threw it into Harry's stomach. Harry groaned as he caught it. He then dribbled a little, faked left and right while Tom dodged, panting, and finally took a shot and missed.

"Nice shot," Tom echoed snidely.

He began to dribble with his right hand, using his left to keep Harry at bay as they made their way down the court. Harry stuck out a foot to trip Tom, and as Tom stumbled, the ball rolled far away from them.

"What the hell, Harry?" Tom yelled angrily as he picked himself up. "Foul!"

"That was no foul," Harry argued, wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt.

"Yes, it was!" Tom yelled back, in Harry's face.

"No, _this_ is a foul!" Harry shoved Tom. Harder than he meant to. But he wasn't going to apologize.

Tom picked himself off the floor again and shoved Harry back, and then landed on top of him. With primal screams escaping their throats, they began wrestling, kicking and pushing any part of each other they could effectively get hold of.

"What is going on?" Libby's voice rang out across the court as she stormed toward them. Harry, now on top of Tom, looked up at her sheepishly. One of his hands was still tugging what was left of Tom's hair. "You're twenty minutes late for dinner. What the hell are you doing? Get off him!"

Harry pushed off Tom's chest, causing Tom to let out a loud moan. Then Harry collected himself and said in a calm voice, "I'm sorry I'm late for dinner."

Libby frowned and offered Tom a hand. As he put his whole weight on her to stand, she stumbled slightly. "Do you want to tell me what you two clowns are doing?"

"Just a friendly game of basketball," Tom told her innocently.

Libby gave him a sharp look. "Tom, how old are you?" She looked between him and Harry with her hands on her hips. "How long have you two been friends?"

"Twenty-eight years," they said in unison.

"What could break up a friendship of twenty-eight years?" She continued looking back and forth between them as they looked at the ground in silence. "Is this about the kids?"

"Of course it's about the kids," Harry grumbled.

Libby just shook her head. "Would you two please make up your minds about them? You fight when they start dating, and then you're upset when they break up. Now they're getting married, and you're…I don't even know what you've been doing here. Some people would be happy about this, you know. You are best friends, and your children are getting married. You are going to be more than friends; you will be family. This will happen with or without you. So either get on board, or leave each other alone. But I will _not_ watch you idiots try to kill each other." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the gymnasium.

They watched her leave, the sounds of her heels on the hard floor echoing off the gymnasium walls.

After a second, Tom said, "Best of three?"

Harry burst into laughter, shaking his head.

"She's full of fire, isn't it?"

"That's what I love about her." Harry turned to Tom and put a hand on his shoulder. "Can we call a truce?"

"Yeah," Tom answered seriously. "We can." He looked at his best friend for a moment. "You're going to be a great father-in-law to Miral. B'Elanna was right when she said you and Miral really love each other. She's always looked up to you."

"She's my niece," Harry said. "Or daughter-in-law, I guess. I knew her before she was even born. I would never do anything but treat her well."

"I know. You've always been great to her. L'Naan, too."

"You've been pretty great to Andrew," Harry said. "All those camping trips and climbing expeditions and the time you competed in the father-son race in my place. He admires you, you know. He used to want to be just like you. Well, until he decided he wanted to work under me."

Tom smiled. "He reminds me of myself when I was young, I guess….though I'm sure he won't get kicked out of Starfleet on his first mission," he added as Harry shot him a concerned look. "He's too much like you in that respect. He'll be a model officer."

"They're going to be good together," Harry determined. "I still think they're too young, but it's almost as if they were made for each other."

"Yeah, and it means fewer people we have to invite to our family reunions."

Harry laughed again, and they started for the door. "I only have one son, though, so what are you going to do about L'Naan? Think she'll fall back in love with Jeremy Powell?"

"Harry," Tom said seriously, "I don't even want to think about that for about ten years."


	13. Chapter 13

_Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame." _

_Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future. _

* * *

**Chapter 13: Paris, Place de la Concorde, Klingon Embassy, Grand Hall**

Part of her new, mature approach to life was that Miral begrudgingly agreed to allow a small reception to be held at the Klingon embassy in honor of her engagement to Andrew. It didn't really make any sense; she was only a quarter Klingon, and Andrew was fully human. But the "old windbags," as she called them, liked her mother, and weddings were occasions for pomp and circumstance among diplomats. One thing she had insisted upon, though, was that the catering had to include some human food and drink.

Tom was having the time of his life. He was standing in a corner with a group of Klingons in full warrior attire, and from their hand gestures it was obvious they were discussing the art of the _bat'leth_. Harry was standing slightly out the circle, listening, appreciating the fact that, unlike the last time he'd had a run-in with so many Klingons in one room, no one had yet tried to claim him as a mate.

_Hmm, I wonder if I can get Libby to do that later. _

B'Elanna had made the rounds with Worf and had regrouped to where the bride and groom-to-be were seated. It wasn't difficult to find them; the only pack of humans in a hall full of Klingons stood out easily. They were seated on several small couches by the large windows, and it looked as though they were trying to keep their distance from their Klingon hosts. Miral and L'Naan, B'Elanna knew, were fine in the rambunctious Klingon atmosphere, but Andrew and Libby looked sorely out of place and more than a little shell-shocked.

"Mom, tell us about your wedding," Miral prompted. She took a sip of champagne to cover the grin she felt spontaneously erupting at saying the last word.

B'Elanna noticed that her daughter had a tendency to burst into smiles, and it made her smile as well. "There's not much to tell," she replied.

"You've always said that you and Dad were married on Voyager by Captain Janeway after you were in a race."

"That's true."

"But you never describe the ceremony."

"Was my father there?" Andrew asked.

"Yes," B'Elanna answered. "I think he would have felt left out otherwise."

"What about Chakotay?" L'Naan asked, taking another sip of champagne.

"Careful," her mother warned. "That's the real stuff. Drink slowly. Chakotay would have felt left out, too, so he was there."

"What about your other Voyager friends?"

"Tuvok had the bridge, and a patient had come into sickbay after us – Nozawa, if I remember correctly, had gotten a plasma shock – and Seven – Annika – was still in the astrometrics lab, but Neelix was there."

"The cook?" Andrew asked with a frown. "The one you've all started talking to again?"

"He was more than just the cook," B'Elanna said. "He and Tom were pretty close. And he always gave me the sweetest advice." She decided to edit out the part where Neelix helped her realize she should call it quits with Tom. Fortunately, she hadn't, and she'd ended up married two days later.

"Well, did anyone _do_ anything? Read poetry or something?" Miral asked dubiously. Clearly the story was not unfolding as she had expected.

"No, Miral, there's really nothing to tell," B'Elanna reiterated. "It was very impromptu after your father proposed during a core breach. We didn't want to make a big deal out of it. It was just the five of us in the captain's ready room. It took all of five minutes."

"That's not very romantic, Mom," L'Naan informed her.

B'Elanna shrugged. "It was us."

_  
**USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant, 2377**_

"_Tom, why are you looking at me like that?" B'Elanna demanded._

"_Because I figure it's going to take us about two minutes to make it to the bridge, and I don't want you to change your mind between here and there."_

_B'Elanna smiled and took his hand in hers. "I'm not going to change my mind. Are you?"_

_He shook his head with a smile. "No way."_

_When the turbolift doors opened, they stepped out onto the bridge, still holding hands. Tuvok saw them first and raised an eyebrow, taking in this breach of protocol that, he rightly assumed, the captain would let slide. _

_Tom spoke before anyone asked for a report on the antimatter explosion. "Captain, can we see you in your ready room? Please?"_

_Captain Janeway looked at him and her chief engineer, and glanced down at their hands. "All right." She rose from the command seat and started for the door to her ready room. _

"_Harry?" B'Elanna's voice called softly behind her. "Can you come with us? And Chakotay?"_

_Chakotay looked toward Janeway with a question written across his face, but Tuvok, ever prescient, told them, "I will take the bridge in your absence."_

_The five senior officers went into the captain's ready room. Before the captain or Chakotay could ask them what was going on, Tom spoke up. "Captain, we have a request to make of you."_

_The door to the ready room chimed, and Neelix entered, looking puzzled. "Tom told me to meet him here, Captain."_

_Suddenly Harry saw that Tom and B'Elanna were holding hands and realized that he, Chakotay, and Neelix had been deliberately summoned. Suddenly he knew what their request of the captain was going to be. He knew – he just couldn't believe it._

"_Captain, will you marry us?"_

_It could have been a temporal distortion rippling through the ready room. Janeway and Chakotay turned to look at each other in slow-motion, their faces a mixture of disbelief, surprise, happiness, and slight terror. Harry's smile erupted slowly across his face as he reached up to clap Tom on the shoulder and give B'Elanna a hug._

_The captain tried for a minute to encourage them to have a formal dress ceremony in the mess hall, at which Neelix could organize the throwing of rice and replicate a cake, and perhaps the doctor could take holoimages that they would no doubt want to keep as memories. But a minute was all they would grant her, before they patiently but insistently told her this was all they needed. _

"_Tuvok and the Doctor and Seven are going to be disappointed they didn't get to be here," she said, acquiescing. She took a deep breath and said a few ceremonial phrases._

_Chakotay slipped over the replicator quietly and murmured something to it._

_It was Tom's turn to speak. He took B'Elanna's hands in his own and looked down at her. He couldn't believe she'd been contemplating ending their relationship mere hours ago, and now she was ready and willing to marry him. He wasn't sure what the right thing to say in such a situation was, so he simply said what he was feeling. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I promise I'm going to try to keep doing it. I meant it when I said my life on Voyager is so much better than anything I ever had in the Alpha Quadrant. That's because of Harry and the captain and my friends –" he looked over his shoulder to acknowledge them briefly – "but most of all because of you. I love you." He turned as he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he looked down to see a small gold band in Chakotay's upturned palm. He grinned in thanks at the first officer, and then slid the ring onto B'Elanna's finger. _

_B'Elanna stared down at her hand, processing what this new piece of jewelry meant. She barely heard the captain prompt her to speak. "Uh, right." She looked up at Tom, at the face she loved. She realized her voice was unsteady, but she didn't care. Not this time. "You stood by me when most people would have run for the nearest airlock." Tom gave a sweet chuckle but squeezed her hands supportively. "Thank you for accepting who I am, the good and the bad, and for making me a better person. I love you." She looked expectantly at Chakotay, who was smiling at her. He gave her another ring, and she slid it with a little force onto Tom's finger. Then they looked at the captain with great anticipation._

"_Well, go ahead," she said with an impish smile. She gave the official "by the power of the United Federation of Planets" declaration as her two officers kissed each other, totally unaware. Then she, Chakotay, and Harry clapped for them. She tapped her com badge. "Attention all hands. It is my privilege to announce the marriage of Lieutenants B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris. I'm sure you will all join me in celebrating their new life together."_

"That sounds sweet," Libby told B'Elanna. "Much more romantic than you made it seem."

"I thought you always said on Voyager everyone celebrated everyone else's everything," L'Naan cut in. "Weren't people upset that you didn't have a shipwide wedding?"

"Well, the engineering crew organized a small party, and Neelix threw a shipwide reception in the mess hall a few days later, when we got back from the Delta Flyer, and Naomi made us a card."

"Got back? Where did you go?" Andrew asked with curiosity.

B'Elanna smiled, and her eyes looked from one of them to the next. "Nowhere," she said with a suggestive raise of the eyebrows.

Miral shook her head and put her champagne down on the table. "I'm not spending my honeymoon cooped up on a shuttle."

"All right," L'Naan asked her sister with eagerness, "what do you want your ceremony to be like?"

* * *

**San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence**

"Come in," Tom said warmly. "Everyone's here." He took his father's jacket and put it in the closet. Then he took the old man's elbow and led him slowly into the crowded living room. He helped him settle into a chair. "Dad, you know Harry and Libby and Admiral Janeway." He gestured to the tall tattooed man near Admiral Janeway. "Do you remember Chakotay?"

Chakotay shook Admiral Owen Paris's hand politely. "It's nice to see you again."

"Hi, Grandpa," L'Naan said with her usual effervescence. She gently laid a kiss on his cheek, and he smiled at her.

"And, Dad, you remember the Doctor?" Tom said, extending a hand toward him. "He delivered Miral."

"I'm old, son, but I'm not stupid," Admiral Paris chided. "When's that twenty-fifth anniversary holodeck program going to be ready, Doctor?"

Tom looked at the Doctor with surprise as the latter said, "Very soon, Admiral, with my co-authors' help."

"_He's_ the one who gave you permission to publicize our lives?" Tom muttered. The Doctor nodded as he bit his lip slightly. "Don't tell B'Elanna, Doc, whatever you do."

Miral crossed the room to her grandfather. "Hiya," she said, kissing his cheek. "Remember Andrew?" She loving touched the shoulder of the man standing behind her.

"Of course. You look quite handsome in that new uniform, Ensign."

"Thank you, sir," Andrew said with surprise. He gestured across the room. "Those are my grandparents. I'll introduce you when – _if_ my Grandma Lucille ever stops talking."

Chakotay put an arm around Miral's shoulders. "That uniform is really becoming, you know. How does it feel to have graduated?"

Miral shook her head slightly. "Honestly?" she said, dropping her voice so no one else could hear them. "The last two weeks have been a whirlwind. Getting my assignment, getting engaged, graduating. I'm looking forward to some quiet time."

The get-together at the Torres-Paris home was interrupted just then by a flash of light, then a young male voice crying, "Aunt Kathy! I can't wait to attend my first wedding!"

The chattering stopped as a young man materialized in the middle of the room. He looked about Miral and Andrew's age, with brown hair and pale complexion, but he was wearing a uniform with the rank of captain.

It took Kathryn Janeway all of two seconds to figure out who he was, and her hands flew immediately to her hips. "Q Junior!" she called. "What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to greet me after all these years? I'm your godson!" he pouted.

"Junior," she said in a gravelly voice, "if you want to attend the wedding, ask the bride and groom politely for an invitation."

Q Junior flashed himself across the room and into Andrew's lap. He batted his eyelashes. "Pretty please?"

"For the love of god," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Who are you?" Andrew asked, looking around the room for answers.

"Andrew, we've met before," Junior said, as Andrew shoved him off his lap. "In fact, I met you before you were born."

Andrew looked at Harry in sudden surprise. "Dad?"

"I don't know what he's talking about, son," Harry said honestly. "We met him in the Delta Quadrant." He looked at Q. "But you were a teenager the last time we saw you. Shouldn't you be older?"

"You humans!" Junior threw his head back on the couch. "You have no understanding of how our immortal lives work." He looked to Janeway for support. "In your form it's more fun to be young. I'm twenty-two."

"Happy belated birthday," she said flatly, crossing the room to him. She sat down next to him to try to explain. "You can't interrupt our lives for your own pleasure, Junior. This is an important day for Miral and Andrew."

"But, Aunt Kathy," he began, stopping suddenly. He looked at Chakotay, who had moved to Kathryn's side and was standing over her protectively. "Did you two finally get together?"

"Junior, you were saying?" Janeway prompted with some annoyance.

"Oh, yeah, Andrew," he said, turning to the graduate, "I'm the reason you exist."

**End of Part One**


End file.
